


Small, Cute and Cuddly

by alkjira



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: ALL THE FLUFF, AU of AU, Accidental Marriage, Alternate Universe - Birds, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Music, Animal Transformation, Anniversary, Board Games, Charity Auctions, Christmas, Cuddling & Snuggling, Day At The Beach, Didn't Know They Were Dating, Dwalin has a secret admirer, Fem!Bofur - Freeform, Fem!Ori - Freeform, First Kiss, Fix-It, Fluff and Crack, Fíli Steals Blankets, Gen, Genderbending, Ghosts, King Bilbo, Kíli being awkward, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Meet the Family, Meeting the Parents, Mpreg, Nori Is Doomed, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Opposites Attract, Ori Does Not Approve, Rabbits, School Trip Guardians, Shire AU, Size Difference, Tentacles, Thorin Feels, Turtles, Uncle Bilbo, Uncle Thorin, Wingfic, accidental magic, alien!Fíli, artist Thorin, cinema, hairdresser au, mechanic Thorin, mer!Bilbo, oblivious!Ori, tiny!Thorin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-28
Updated: 2015-10-08
Packaged: 2017-12-30 18:28:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 54
Words: 43,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1021973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alkjira/pseuds/alkjira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fluffy ficlets to compensate for when I end up writing sad things.  </p><p>This summary used to have a description of each ficlet but now there are too many, I have run out of characters...</p><p>So to sum it up: in this ongoing collection we have everything from Bilbo being turned into a bunny to Thorin being turned into a child to Fíli going across the galaxy to find Bofur to a G-rated tentacle fic to-</p><p>Heh, maybe you can just look at the tags?</p><p>And prompts are welcome if they're small, cute and cuddly!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Baby Dragon Meets King Under The Mountain

**Author's Note:**

> Will be updated randomly and without warning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by Syxx

“Why are you crying?”  
  
Bilbo sniffed and looked up at the prince with the golden crown who loomed over him where he was sitting on the sidewalk.

“I’m not crying,” he protested. “Crying is for babies. I’m not a baby, I’m a dragon.” He tilted his head from side to side for emphasis as that made the dragon’s head move as well. When a blond curl bounced into his face Bilbo blew at it until it went away again.

The other boy looked sceptical, his dark eyebrows furrowing beneath his crown. “You could be a baby dragon, you’re not very big.”  
  
Surreptitiously wiping his eyes and nose (he _wasn’t_ crying) Bilbo scrambled to his feet.  
  
“And you are _very_ rude to be a prince.”  
  
“I’m not a prince, I’m _king_ ,” the boy said and puffed out his chest.  “I’m king under the mountain.” Then his haughty expression disappeared into a grin.  “Because we live right next to a mountain and it would be so cool to be king there, but not _on_ the mountain because it’s always windy. So I’m going to live inside it.”  
  
“Yeah,” Bilbo agreed, impressed, then he frowned. “But would you have flowers if it’s inside a mountain?”  
  
“Flowers are for girls,” the boy scoffed and Bilbo’s face clouded.  
  
“I don’t like you anymore. I’m going to find my mama.”

He’d only taken a few steps when a hand pulled on one of his wings. “There could be flowers,” the dark-haired boy offered when Bilbo turned around to glare at him. “If you wanted.” He shuffled his feet. “Do you like me again?”  
  
“I don’t know,” Bilbo said slowly. “Are you going to stop being rude and mean?”  
  
“I’m not mean,” the boy protested and Bilbo crossed his arms; carefully, because he didn’t want to tear lose any of the scales his mama had sewn on his costume. They were very awesome, especially the red ones. “Fine,” the boy sighed. “I’ll stop being mean.”  
  
“Good,” Bilbo said and grinned up at him. The boy grinned back. He looked much nicer when he did that and didn't frown. “I’m Bilbo,” Bilbo offered. “Bilbo Baggins.”  
  
“Thorin Durin,” the boy, Thorin, said. “So why were you crying?”  
  
Bilbo’s face darkened. “There was this stupid boy and he took _all_ my candy. But I wasn’t crying,” Bilbo hastily added when he realised what he almost had admitted to.  
  
“If you point at him I could hit him for you,” Thorin offered, but Bilbo shook his head.  
  
“That’s mean.”  
  
“But he took your candy!”  
  
“It’s still mean.”  
  
Thorin pouted, then his face brightened. “I'll let you have half of my candy.”  
  
Bilbo’s eyes grew big. “Really? You’ll do that?” When Thorin nodded Bilbo threw himself forward and caught the other boy in a hug. He must have hugged a little too hard because Thorin _ooomphed_ , but when Bilbo tried to let go thin arms came to wrap around his back; carefully avoiding his wings, and hugged him  back just as tight.  
  
"Want to come scare my little brother?" Thorin asked after the hug had ended. "He's afraid of Dragons."  
  
"Thorin!" Bilbo protested. "That's also mean."  
  
"He hates _flowers_ ," Thorin said in a sing-song voice.  
  
"Maybe just a little then," Bilbo said after some consideration. "But I need to tell my mama where I'm going first." He held out his hand. "Want to come with?"  
  
Thorin's hand was warm and a little sticky, he'd obviously gotten good candy.


	2. Sassy Bunny Bilbo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo is turned into a bunny (a sassy bunny).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Should technically go into the animal!AUs, but my fic, my rules :D
> 
> Got to keep you on your toes.
> 
> Prompt by Syxx

Thorin pinched the bridge of his nose between two fingers.  
  
“Why is my burglar a bunny?”  
  
Radagast furtively tilted his head in Gandalf’s direction, and when that didn't seem to catch anyone's attention he pointed. The Grey Wizard huffed but didn’t deny it.  
  
“I would say,” Gandalf did _indeed_ say. “That the important thing is that the Orcs are now gone. Bilbo will turn back into his old self soon enough.”

“Magic sometimes have… side effects,” Radagast hedged. “But nothing to worry about, and I have to say that he makes for a very handsome rabbit.”

Handsome was not the word Thorin wold use, but he couldn’t deny that Bilbo looked… pleasing. His fluffy fur was a pale golden colour, his nose was the same colour as rose quartz, and his ears were just as small and pointy as on his Hobbit-self. To sum it up, he was adorable. However were someone to ask, The Dwarf would deny _ever_ thinking such a thing. He was already practiced in such things because Bilbo as his Hobbit-self was also fairly adorable, if less fluffy.

Radagast yelped when Bilbo stamped on his boot-clad foot and Thorin shook his head, deeply unimpressed with the Wizard’s bravery in the face of such a tiny (and fluffy) foe.  
  
With a sigh the king bent down to scoop up his burglar into his arms. Or, he tried to, because Bilbo was having none of it.

When the entire company had spent much too long chasing Bilbo the rabbit ‘round and ‘round the small clearing, Thorin finally yelled: “Enough!” and watched his company, including burglar bunny, freeze.

“You are only slightly bigger than my fist and there could be more Orcs around,” Thorin said to Bilbo. “We should move out before _more_ of our numbers are turned into animals in the name of Wizardry.” He crouched down. “Come here.”  
  
Bilbo, as much as a rabbit could, looked sceptical.  
  
“I’m hardly likely to make a hat out of you,” Thorin said drily. “There’s not even enough for a pair of mittens. But as we’re riding I’d rather have you somewhere I can keep an eye on you.”  
  
“You can ride with me if you want, Bilbo,” Bofur offered, and Thorin almost protested before he realised that there was no reason to do so.  
  
“That’s settled then,” Thorin said as a replacement for things that should not be said. “We’ll ride out immediately.”

Thorin was just about to get up on his pony when something small nudged his boot. Seeing that it was Bilbo he immediately picked him up. “You should not be so close to the ponies,” he scolded. “They might step on you and where would that leave us? With a flattened burglar, that’s what.”

The sound coming from his burglar did not sound particularly apologetic, and when Thorin attempted to stuff him down the collar of his shirt kicking occurred. Perhaps he should have told him first, but that would just have been arguing, and Thorin didn't know if he was ready for an arguing bunny.

Nevertheless, that looked to be what he was in for now.  
  
“Have you any better suggestions?” Thorin asked. “I can’t hold you, and I didn’t think you’d prefer being stuffed into a pocket or pouch.” Bilbo didn’t, and he made that perfectly clear by thumping Thorin on the nose with a front paw.  
  
Thorin took that as an agreement that riding inside his shirt was the best idea available.

“You are extraordinarily soft,” Thorin murmured when silky fur nudged against his throat, and Bilbo made a pleased sound at the compliment. “You’d make a fine pair of mittens after all. A small pair.” Thorin winced when sharp teeth nipped at his skin through the undershirt, but a small smile still lurked around the edges of his mouth.

Though when Bilbo’s little head popped back up to glare at him, the smile had been carefully hidden.


	3. Instant tiny!Thorin (you don't even need to add water)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin learns that touching a Wizard's staff is a big no-no.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by Syxx :)

It was a shame that Bilbo was very much unlikely to ever have children, because just looking at the little boy curled up half-in his lap, half-on the blanket covered ground, made Bilbo’s heart grow big enough to almost burst out of his chest.

On second thought, perhaps it was just as well that he would not become father, because that sounded rather unpleasant. Not to mention messy.

When Thorin mumbled something in his sleep Bilbo continued stroking his hand through the boy’s soft dark hair. Here was tot even a trace of grey in it now. But for some reason the callouses Thorin had earned from a life as a smith and a warrior remained, only shrunken down to fit the Dwarf’s now smaller hands.  
  
Bilbo frowned as a thought occurred to him. Surely Dwarven children did not start to practice swordplay this early in life? If so he would have to have a word with… someone. Maybe Glóin as he was the only one in the company who had a child.  
  
Children had to be children and not drilled to be anything else.

Thorin snuffled in his sleep, an adorable little smack of his lips, and turned to rub his check against Bilbo’s stomach, and the Hobbit took that as a cue to go to carding his hand through dark hair.  
  
They had made a slightly more permanent camp than normal as Gandalf had said that it would take about a week for the magic to fade from Thorin.  
  
The Wizard had also added that it was fortunate that this had been the _only_ consequence stemming from Thorin ill-thought-out decision to grab Gandalf’s staff during an argument.  
  
Bilbo wasn’t quite sure if that was a veiled threat from the Wizard, or if it was just genuine relief. But he was definitely in agreement that things could be worse. Thorin was an adorable child, which was perhaps not unexpected. Thorin as an adult was very striking after all. But Bilbo still hadn’t been prepared for what having those big, blue eyes look pleadingly up at him would lead to (a Dwarfling with a tummy-ache from being fed too many honey cakes, that was what.) . And the sullen pout that popped out every time he didn’t get his way had definitely been a surprise.  
  
The strangest part was seeing Thorin be so small.  
  
Bilbo had not ever imagined Thorin as anything other than he was; someone whose presence could fill up an entire room in mere moments. But the little boy sleeping in his lap had so far displayed no such ability.  
  
Of course Bilbo realised that Thorin had to have been a child at one point, just like everyone else, but it was still strange to see proof of it. Strange, and… to be honest, amazing. It probably wasn’t fair to Thorin; because Bilbo wasn’t about to volunteer being turned into his younger self any time soon, but the Hobbit couldn’t say that he regretted this chance to see Thorin as something other than a stern, stoic King.  
  
And… it didn’t hurt that he actually seemed to like Bilbo.

Apparently disdain and rudeness would be traits acquired later in life. Bilbo wasn’t exactly looking forward to them. But he might as well get used to the idea of seeing shy smiles get exchanged with deep frowns once again. A week went by awfully fast when you didn't want it to.  
   
-  
  
Sure enough…

It happened in an instant, just like Thorin’s transformation into a child had happened, only this time it hadn’t been preceded by Thorin and Gandalf shouting at each other.  
  
Instead Thorin had been playing with Fíli and Kíli, riding on Kíli’s shoulders and chasing Fíli who pretended to be an Elf. (This included a lot more swishy hips than Bilbo had ever imagined an Elf would have.) One second the three had been giggling and shouting, the next Kíli had been lying dazed on the ground, half-buried beneath his again fully-grown uncle.  
  
Bilbo wished Thorin welcome back like everyone else, and if his smile was a little strained he hoped no one noticed.

 -  
  
“I wanted to thank you,” Thorin said, sitting down next to Bilbo by the camp fire. “For taking care of me.”  
  
“Everyone did,” Bilbo said without looking at the Dwarf. “Of course we did.”  
  
“Everyone did not sing to me when I had bad dreams and stay up with me until I fell back to sleep again. Everyone did not teach me about different kinds of plants and birds. Everyone did not look like I’d broken their heart when I turned back into my adult self again.”  
  
So much for not showing how he’d felt, Bilbo thought glumly. Before he could say something Thorin continued.  
  
“I dreamt of Smaug, when he attacked Erebor. Only I couldn’t understand it. I just knew that it was frightening, and terrible.”  
  
 _Oh_. Bilbo’s hand lightly touched the back of Thorin’s where it covered the Dwarf’s knee. “I’m sorry.”  
  
To his surprised Thorin turned his hand and interlocked their fingers.  
  
“Don’t be, you helped. Just knowing that someone was there, it helped.”  
  
“I didn’t do anything that the others wouldn’t have, given the chance,” Bilbo murmured, and it was true. Thorin as a child might have clung to Bilbo at night for whatever reason, but it was not like he would have been turned away if he’d instead gone to one of the others.  
  
“Be that as it may,” Thorin said. “I’d still like to thank you for it. _Thank you_ ,” he added, and it was said so terribly gravely that the corners of Bilbo’s mouth twitched upwards in a small smile.  
  
“You’re not used to saying that, are you?” his mouth decided to ask without checking with him first. Strangely, the frown he was dreading did not return to Thorin’s brow, instead his lips twisted in a small smile and he glanced down at their still intertwined hands.  
  
“No, perhaps not,” he said quietly, raising his eyes to meet Bilbo’s. “But I’d like to become better at it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tiny!Thorin is my new favourite expression, that's all.


	4. Tender Loving Care

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How does the Company handle Bilbo getting sick when Dwarfs don't really get sick? (Spoiler: Badly)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by Syxx.

“Atchoo!”

Bilbo fumbled for his handkerchief, remembered that he still didn’t have one (he should probably have nabbed one while in Mirkwood, surely Elves were civilized enough to use them even if they were _not_ civilized enough to _not_ throw guests into dungeons) and sighed. Then he sneezed again.  
  
Really though, even if he’d been in possession of a handkerchief it still would have been wet, like everything else was after that damned barrel ride. It had been their best option of escape, but unfortunately that still didn’t make it a good one.

“Is there a pony around?” Bofur asked with a hopeful smile. “I wouldn’t mind riding for a bit.”  
  
“What?” Bilbo looked towards his friend in confusion. “No, I’m just getting a cold, I think.”  
  
“Are you cold?” Fíli asked, concerned. Kíli, who had been walking just in front of Bilbo slowed down and wrapped his arm around the Hobbit’s shoulders.  
  
“Well, yes,” Bilbo said, trying not to press against Kíli in an inappropriate way (but he was so warm, how could he be so warm? He’d been in a barrel just like Bilbo had). “But I’m meant I’m _getting_ one.”  
  
This sentence was met with uncomprehending stares all around.

“You are getting cold,” Fíli said slowly, trying to make sense of what he was hearing.  
  
“No, I’m getting _a_ cold.”

 “A cold what?” Nori asked.

“You don’t know what a cold is?” Bilbo asked, and surprise would have made him stumble if Kíli hadn’t been there to haul him along.  
  
“A cold _what_?” Nori asked again.

 “It’s- you’ve never had a cold?” Bilbo looked up at Kíli who just looked confused.  
  
“Not to steal lines from the thief, but a cold _what_?” the young dwarf asked.  
  
“The common cold? Coughing, runny nose, sneezing? Where’s Óin, he has to know what a cold is.”  
  
-  
  
Óin didn’t.  
  
-  
  
“The most common of sicknesses and the healer doesn’t know,” Bilbo muttered. “Remind me not to get truly ill while on this quest.”  
  
“Are you feeling ill?” Fíli asked and Kíli surreptitiously loosened his grip on the Hobbit and put a few inches of space between them, Bilbo instantly shivered.  
  
“Yes, I’m coming down with a _cold._ Could have sworn I just told you about it.”  
  
“But you’re not going to throw up?” Kíli asked warily. “I really don’t need that as a finish to this day.”

“What? No I’m not going to throw up, I might sneeze at you, but-“  
  
Fíli snickered. “Kíli, I didn’t know you were a pony, or perhaps one of those pretty flowers that make mum sneeze.”  
  
“Everyone knows you’re the pretty one,” Kíli said sullenly. “You can be the flower.”  
  
“So you think flowers are pretty do you?” Fíli asked, batting his eyelashes.  
  
When the two brothers started to shove each other Bilbo made the wise decision to relocate elsewhere. He ended up walking with Bofur and Nori.  
  
Was it too forward to ask if Bofur would hold him like Kíli had just done? Probably… Did Bilbo care? Not as much as he was freezing.  
  
Bofur looked surprised when Bilbo first pressed himself against his side, but caught on quickly enough and soon there was a warm arm around Bilbo’s shoulders and a Dwarven furnace at his side. Was this perhaps why Dwarfs could be so hot-headed? They were literally too warm and had to let out steam every now and again?  
  
“I still don’t understand what you’re trying to tell us,” Nori said with a sidewise glance at the Hobbit.

 “I’m getting a cold, the most common of all diseases, and-“

“What’s a disease?” Bofur asked.

 Oh, confound it all.

-  
  
“But if you don’t even know what the word disease means, what do you need with a healer then?” Bilbo asked after a long explanation during which he’d felt like he was speaking a foreign language.

“He tends our injuries,” Thorin said matter-of-factly. “You have seen him do this.”

That was true enough, even if Thorin had done a fair bit of squirming to get out of having Óin look at his ribs after that Warg had decided to use him as a chew toy.

“You _never_ get sick?” Bilbo asked.  
  
“Sure we do,” Kíli chimed in. “Like when Fíli overindulges in ale. Oomph!”  
  
“Thank you, brother dear,” Fíli said and withdrew the hand he’d smacked his brother on the head with.

“There’s wound fever,” Balin explained. “And occasionally a wound can fester and you end up losing an arm or a leg.”  
  
“I once saw a fellow who’d lost his nose that way,” Glóin said and shook his head. “Poor bastard.”

“There’s lockjaw,” Dwalin offered. “Nasty thing.”  
  
“And I wouldn’t recommend eating food that’s gone green,” Bombur added, Ori nodding empathically in the background. “Will turn your stomach inside out it will.”  
  
“But you never get a bad cough? Or a headaches – unless someone has just hit you,” Bilbo added when Kíli; rubbing the back of his head with a sullen look, opened his mouth.

 The Dwarfs looked at each other and shrugged.  
  
“I guess we don’t, lad,” Balin said, putting his hand on Bilbo’s shoulder. The white-haired Dwarf looked deeply affronted when Bilbo ended up sneezing straight into his beard.

-  
  
On their first day in Lake-town Bilbo woke up feeling like a Dragon had sat on him. Most everything ached, his nose was as stuffed as Lobelia’s pockets when she’d been around Bag End for tea, and the shivers he’d been plagued with the day before had worsened even with the very nice bedding he’d been provided with wrapped around him like a cocoon.

When someone knocked on his door he didn’t even bother getting up.  
  
“Cobe, ibh,” Bilbo said faintly. When Bofur caught sight of him he did a double-take.

“You look awful.”

“Thabk you,” Bilbo said, wishing he had the energy to glare.

“This is a cold?” Bofur swept his gaze over the nest Bilbo had made for himself.

 “A cold _what_?” Bilbo said sardonically and burrowed himself deeper beneath the blankets.

 -  
  
Thankfully the people of Lake-town knew what a cold was and the owner of the inn they were staying at helpfully provided plenty of handkerchiefs and as much chicken soup as Bilbo felt up to eating.  
  
Unfortunately they also knew of pneumonia, flu, and the whopping-cough, and worse, they shared this information with the Dwarfs.

“Don’t die!” Kíli wailed, diving into Bilbo’s bed and wrapping himself around Bilbo’s stomach and legs.

Bilbo peered blearily at Fíli who followed behind his brother, hoping that the blond Dwarf would prove to be a bit more sane. He should perhaps have learnt better by now.  
  
The white-knuckled grip Fíli had on a metal cup of steaming something-that-was-probably-soup had made the metal dent slightly.  
  
Bilbo sighed and patted Kíli’s head.  
  
-  
  
The fourth time Bilbo explained that he was hardly about to die from the common cold the message seemed to sink in. Then Bofur threw open the door and flung himself on top of Bilbo, well, on top of Kíli because he still hadn’t moved.  
  
“Bilbo,” Bofur said, eyes wild. “Tell me that you’re not about to die on us?”  
  
If more Dwarfs decided to fling themselves at him, he was more likely to die beneath them, but Bilbo didn’t bother explaining that. Instead he sighed and patted Bofur’s hat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um, yeah so not a lot of TLC actually, but the Dwarfs were a bit too freaked out.


	5. His Own Heart Laughed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On Christmas Eve, Thorin is visited by three ghosts.
> 
> And they're not really the ghosts of Christmas Past, Present, and Future.  
> And they come all at once. And the mostly just stand around and yell at him.
> 
> Clearly Charles Dickens didn't know what he was writing about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Modern!Au

In a way Thorin is rather offended.  
  
If on Christmas Eve, one is visited by three ghosts, then shouldn’t the entire thing be a little more dignified than this? To think that he’d actually been frightened for a few moments when the lights dimmed and the room grew cold. Bah and humbug, Charles Dickens.  
  
Thorin looks up to where Frerin is now floating by the ceiling lamp, amusing himself by making the light go on and off and on and off and wonders if maybe malevolent ghosts would actually have been preferable. He’s watched enough telly to know how to get rid of those. But he doesn’t really want to hurt his brother, no matter how annoying he-  
  
“Thorin, are you even listening?” his grandfather asks, heavy brows even more heavily furrowed. “This is important, you should pay attention.”  
  
“But Frerin-“ Thorin begins, because if anyone is not paying attention, it’s obviously his brother. Not that Thorin really blames him. The same lecture has been running on repeat for about an hour now, and it's not getting any more interesting.  
  
“This isn’t about Frerin,” his father rumbles and crosses his arms. He looks almost like he always did when Thorin had gotten himself in trouble as a boy. There’s only the small matter of him now floating about three feet off the ground. (Thorin thinks that his father is doing this mostly to be able to loom more efficiently.)  
  
“But still…” Thráin continued, looking up at his youngest. “Frerin! Cease making the lights flicker, you’re giving me a headache.”  
  
“Father dear, you don’t technically have a head, you’re dead.” Frerin grins. “And I rhymed!”

“I knew we should have brought his mother,” Thrór mutters and Thráin looks uncomfortable.  
  
“Feris might have told me that this was a silly way of going about things.”  
  
“Is that so?” Thrór asks, looking offended. “Pray tell what my daughter-in-law would have preferred?”  
  
“She wanted us to go and speak to Thorin’s intended. She thinks-“  
  
“You’re not going to go and haunt Bilbo,” Thorin growls. Belatedly: “And he’s not my _intended_.”

“Thorin and Bilbo sitting in a tree-“ Frerin singsongs, making the light flash in time with each syllable and Thorin ponders the possibility that exorcists are listed in the yellow pages, and are they working despite it being the holidays?  
  
“Just tell the boy that you love him,” Thrór says. “Seems simple enough to me.”  
  
“We’re just friends, grandfather,” Thorin replies, not for the first time since his dearly departed had arrived to grace him with their presence.  
  
He would have been much happier to see them if they hadn’t all turned into meddling bastards after their death. If he’s in love with someone who is not in love with him, that’s clearly his own business and they should just keep their incorporeal noses out of it. He's perfectly happy. And in the morning he's going to go to Dís', eat too much food, and not think about the colour of Bilbo's eyes. At all.  
  
“You know what,” Frerin says, spinning around to float on his back. “I think I’m going to pay your Bilbo a visit.” And then he’s gone, and Thorin’s ears pop, like he’d suddenly entered a tunnel.

Thrór and Thráin exchange a deeply exasperated look, then Thráin sighs and he’s gone as well, making Thorin’s ears pop again.  
  
“Please tell me that they’ve really not gone to Bilbo’s?” Thorin pinches the bridge of his nose between his fingers and tries to image the ghosts of his father and brother showing up in Bilbo’s little cosy flat, probably scaring the hell out of him. Crap. “Where’s my phone?”  
  
Bilbo doesn't answer when he calls, which, considering that it’s getting close to midnight, might not be that strange. But… With a sigh Thorin goes to get dressed. If he’s going to have to explain (lie) to Bilbo about why two ghosts think they ought to be married, he’s not doing it in his pyjamas. He's sure to have some dignity left somewhere and he's going to bloody well cling to it.  
  
“This could all have been avoided if you’d only admitted that-“ his grandfather begins again and Thorin really wishes that he could also flash out of existence. Or at least that his ears could.

-  
  
Whatever Thorin had expected when Bilbo opened the door (tears, screams, rage) it wasn’t to see his friend look perfectly normal, if rather more underdressed than Thorin was used to seeing as he was wearing a patchwork robe instead of his usually neat attire (which Thorin has not imagined getting to remove, certainly not, no thoughts about slowly unbuttoning tiny buttons and the like. Not at all. And he doesn’t wish that Bilbo had been _undressed_ instead of _under_ dressed, nope).

“Thorin,” Bilbo says calmly, as if they often met like this, in the middle of the night, in the hallway of Bilbo's apartment building.  
  
Thorin opens his mouth, only to realise that if Frerin and his father hadn’t actually come here, then Bilbo would likely call for the men in white coats if Thorin starts to ask about his dead family members. Especially if he adds the bit about them being meddling bastards.  
  
“Is everything, okay?” Thorin asks instead, trying his best to sound… well, like someone who wasn’t crazy.  
  
“I don’t know, is it?”  
  
Thorin looks over Bilbo’s shoulder, he can’t see his brother or father, or grandfather for that matter, but that didn't necessarily mean anything. “I’m not sure,” he replies carefully. “I hope I didn’t wake you?”  
  
“No, I was already up.”  
  
“KISS HIM ALREADY!”  
  
Thorin closes his eyes and groans. _Frerin_. Well, at least that answered- Then Thorin's eyes fly open as soft lips are pressed against his own.  
  
Bilbo rocks back down on his heels, licking his lips, then biting down on the plumper bottom one, and Thorin is almost distracted enough by that, that he forgets that Bilbo has just kissed him. Almost. Because Bilbo has just _kissed_ him.  
  
“Please tell me that the ghosts in my kitchen are actually your relatives, that I’m not crazy, and that they’ve not been lying to me, that I've not just made a complete fool out of myself and-.” Bilbo frowns. “Or, I’m not sure that’s the correct order.”  
  
"YOU'RE WELCOME!" Frerin shouts. "MERRY CHRISTMAS. NOW MAY WE _LEAVE_?"  
  
"They can't leave?" Thorin asked and Bilbo glanced down at his feet and a slight blush bloomed on his cheeks.  
  
"I might have poured salt around them. Just in case they weren't really your father and brother," Bilbo quickly adds. "I've seen horror films, and well, it worked."  
  
"My brother has a point though," Thorin murmurs. "Which is unusual, but still."  
  
Bilbo raises an eyebrow.  
  
"It's Christmas," Thorin says, lifting his arm to show off his wrist watch. And in the car he'd not at all been thinking about the fact that he would at least get to spend some part of Christmas with Bilbo. Because he's not pathetic. "Merry Christmas, Bilbo."  
  
"Merry Christmas," Bilbo smiles, wrapping his arms around Thorin's shoulders, sliding his hands into Thorin's hair, and Thorin leans down and-  
  
"GHOSTS HAVE RIGHTS TOO!"  
  
"Actually son-"  
  
"Perhaps we should get rid of my brother first," Thorin suggests, but Bilbo shakes his head and then, heartbreakingly, removes his arms from around Thorin's neck.  
  
"He can wait, he and your father made me break my favourite tea cup when they appeared."  
  
"I SAID I WAS SORRY!"  
  
Bilbo mutters something beneath his breath and takes a step out into the hallway, pulling the door shut behind him.  
  
" _There_ ," he says with relish, much better. "Now where were we?"  
  
"Right about here," Thorin murmurs and wraps his arms around Bilbo's waist.  
  
"Oh yes," Bilbo smiles, reaching up to play with Thorin's hair. "It's all coming back to me now."  
  
Bilbo's still smiling when Thorin leans down to kiss him, and it's perfect. It's lovely. It's- Thorin's ears pop.

"I knew you had it in you, Thorin!" It's his grandfather.  
  
"Got any salt left?" Thorin sighs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title is quote from Charles Dickens' A Christmas Carol.


	6. “Those eyes look really good on you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big Bang and Hobbit!Thorin fic are both being kinda stupid right now, so this happened instead. Because I've a goal to write more fics that aren't Bilbo/Thorin. I mean, I love them, but I do write plenty as it is.

“Those eyes look really good on you.”  
  
No sooner had Kíli finished speaking than he wanted to throw himself out the nearest window. Or beneath the closest bus. As luck, or perhaps not, would have it, he was on an airplane, which meant that while there were plenty of windows, all were too small for him to squeeze through if they had been possible to open. And there were definitely no buses.

“I’m so sorry,” Kíli moaned and hid his face in his hands. “I meant to say that you have beautiful eyes.”  
  
“Thanks?” the poor, _poor_ person who was sitting next to him replied.  “I promise they're all mine. I’ve not changed them or anything.” And that tone of confusion and amusement, that wasn’t endearing. Nope. Or hot. And neither was the honey blond curls that Kíli wanted to bury his hands in or the cute little button nose or- Yeah.  
   
“I really am sorry. Words- guh,” Kíli shrugged awkwardly, very aware of how it made his bare arm brush against the other man’s shirt. “I think it's the shirt.” It was a very nice shirt.  
   
“My shirt giving you trouble speaking?”  
   
“No it makes your eyes look greener, bluer, erm, pretty?” Kíli winced. “Sorry, I sound like a total nutjob. If you manage to talk someone into switching seats with you I promise I won’t mind. It’s such a stupid thing, hitting on someone when you’re all but locked inside a metal box several thousands of feet in the air. I’m so-”  
  
“You were hitting on me?” Mister cute blond asked, a small confused furrow appearing in his forehead. It was also adorable. Still, Kíli tried to press himself as close to the window as possible.  
  
Nothing to be alarmed about here, just an idiot with a crush and an inability to keep his mouth shut. Please just don’t be a raging homophobe. Cute people shouldn’t be allowed to be idiots. Why didn’t the UN concern themselves with stuff like that?  
  
“But I’m- well, I have to be a great deal older than you, just to start with.”  
  
For a long moment, Kíli’s brain completely blanked. Then it managed to reboot itself, and came up with the conclusion that the sentence it had just heard hadn’t actually been a rejection. It had definitely not been homophobic, and it hadn’t even contained a normal level of ‘please stop being awkward and go away’. It had been something else entirely.

“I’m 27?” Kíli asked hopefully. And again, as soon as he’d finished speaking he had the urge to give himself a stern talking to.  
  
His age wasn’t a question. He knew how old he was. He wasn’t lying about it to try and get into a club (even if he sometimes still got the impulse to lie and say he was 18 when asked by the bouncers – before he remembered that he _was_ in fact of legal drinking age and had been for years).  
  
“Really?” Lo and behold, it was the other man’s turn to look awkward. It was also terribly adorable. And it made his mouth turn into the cutest little o-shape and-  “I’m sorry, it’s just that you look younger.”  
  
“It’s a family thing,” Kíli said and shrugged again, this time letting himself enjoy how it made his arm nudge up against the blue-green shirt and how he felt the warmth of the skin beneath it. “We all look younger than our age.”  
  
Which would have been an issue when it came to sneaking into bars while being underage if Nori hadn’t been able to make such excellent fake-IDs. God bless him.  
  
“On my mum’s side at least. Dad’s always saying that he keeps expecting to find portraits of all of us in the attic. Which, good luck with that, ‘cause they live in a flat. But I guess the building might have an attic...”  
  
“So is the portrait just to ward off aging or do your sins show up there as well?” The tone of the blond’s voice was teasing, and Kíli’s heart skipped a beat.  
  
“If they do, I expect the poor thing is permanently cringing from all the stupid things I say,” Kíli said a bit cautiously. And it was with caution he held out a hand to the other man. “Hi, I’m Kíli?”  
  
 _Again_ with putting things in the form of questions that weren’t actually questions…  
  
“Hello Kíli,” the blond smiled, small hand taking his and not really shaking it as much as holding it and giving it a squeeze. “I’m Bilbo.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I truly find Bilbo/Kíli adoraaaaaable.


	7. I'm Not Lost If I Am Where I Want To Be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The notes from chapter 13 of At Your Service:
> 
> My brain loves AUs of my own AUs.  
> If Bilbo had never left Hobbiton, I think Dwalin would have ended up filming an episode of his show there. And Bilbo wouldn't want to seem nosy, so he wouldn't be amongst the people casually wandering by the house in question, but... he would have seen Dwalin and Dwalin would have seen him, and then maybe one night as Bilbo sat down to eat dinner, there would be someone at the door.  
> Someone who had perhaps accidentally-on-purpose gotten himself 'lost' while on an evening walk. (all houses look much the same after all) And it's only polite to offer him to stay for dinner.
> 
> And the rest would be history.

It had been a pretty good plan.  
  
Wander around Hobbiton, pretend to get lost, get directions; and hopefully phone number - from the cute little blond man who had been weeding his garden (Dwalin had of course not walked extra slowly once he’d noticed the blond crawling around on all fours, and his eyes _hadn’t_ tracked the pleasing bounce of said man’s arse, at least not more than twice).  
  
However, things that had not been part of the plan were: getting lost for real, realising that his mobile was back at the hotel, and realising that he probably should have had brought not only a flashlight but also dinner. He was _starving_. And it was fucking darker than all hell. What did the people living around here do? Carry lanterns around?  
  
For that matter, how the hell had he gotten lost. There was _one_ road in the place. Fucking hell.  
  
Smaug would kill him if this ended up in the gossip rags, especially if someone sussed out that it was because Dwalin fancied a chance at a date with someone he could actually imagine himself being with instead of the people (all women of course) that his publisher thought would be good for his career. Which basically meant, good for the ratings, which was good for the network. Yada yada, and he really needed to have someone fire Smaug before he ended up in the papers for hitting his publicist.  
  
Dwalin of course knew that his little quest had been a longshot already from the start. There was nothing to say that the cute blond would be interested, but…the weeding wasn’t actually the first Dwalin had seen of him.  
  
He’d not been amongst the crowd hanging around the set, thank fuck, because Dwalin didn’t need someone wanting to sleep with him just ‘cause he was on the telly, but Hobbiton wasn’t a big town (hell it wasn’t even a proper town, more like a village) and he’d seen him around.  
  
Considering that there was about half a dozen shops Hobbiton couldn’t really be said to have a downtown area, but it was in what amounted to one that Dwalin had first seen the other man. And he rather thought that he hadn’t been the _only_ one appearing interested. He’d tried his best to smile encouragingly at the blond, but he wasn’t really sure if he could even manage that sort of expression.  
  
There was a reason that he’d gotten a reputation as rather... grumpy, after all. He wasn’t good with people he didn’t know. Hell, he didn’t even know what he was doing on television in the first place. The people he worked with were all young and pretty, and fine, able to give as good as they got, and excellent at what they did or he wouldn't work with them. So yeah, he could see why someone would thought having Éomer and Éowyn be on telly was a good idea,  and even Bard even though he could also be a surly bastard, but him? Bloody weird that was.

Realising that he’d walked past the same gate three times Dwalin stopped and cursed beneath his breath.  Finding a green door when everything was pitch black was impossible.  
  
Fucking hell. He should just have asked when he’d walked passed by earlier that day. So what if it had been in the middle of the day with potentially nosy neighbours peeking through the curtains. If anyone had taken a photo of it, well, screw them. It wasn’t as if he was about to proposition him and shag him in the garden. Not that it wasn’t a lovely fantasy, but no, he was getting too old for meaningless shit like that. Which also likely meant that he was too old to run around in the dark hoping to get a phone number. Shit.

Fine. Dwalin opened the gate and began the short trek up the stone steps placed into hill. He'd ask the person living here to point him in the right direction to get back to the inn (and it was indeed an inn and not a hotel) and then he would grow a pair and try to find his way back to the green door in the morning.  
  
If there was a doorbell, Dwalin couldn’t find one, so he knocked on the door. Probably a little too hard as he wasn’t in the best of moods. Hopefully there’d be a sane person answering or there’d be headlines in some gossip rag about how he’d been running rampant in the countryside, breaking down people’s doors and-

The door opened, and revealed in the warm light from inside the house was Dwalin’s gardening blond. A glance at the door revealed it to be green. Bloody hell.  
  
“Evening,” Dwalin said, after his tongue had gotten over the shock. Maybe there was a god after all?  
  
“Hi?”  
  
“I seem to be-“ lost, was what Dwalin had intended to say, but at that exact moment his nose caught the most mouth-watering scent and his stomach rumbled loudly enough to probably be heard to the next county. “I seem to be hungry,” he said drily. “But I was actually intending to ask for directions back to the inn. I must have gotten turned around.”  
  
Fuck knows how it’d happen though. Even if he’d been a tad distracted, there was still only one bloody road in this place, so he was tempted to blame magic for walking in circles. However, since he’d ended up in exactly the place he wanted to be, perhaps he shouldn’t really complain.  
  
“Oh.” The blond bit his (plush, delicious-looking) bottom lip. “Do you, would you want to stay for dinner? I was just about to sit down. Or if you'd rather get going, you should just head down the hill, take a left, and then head straight on. And if you see the river, you've gone too far.”  
  
Dwalin’s stomach rumbled again. “Are you sure?”  
  
The blond shrugged. “Well I've lived here all my life. I'd say I know-"  
  
"No, I mean about the dinner?"  
  
"Oh." And again with the abuse of his bottom lip. It made Dwalin hungry for more than dinner. "I’ve got plenty. I always make too much anyway.” The blond pushed open the door. “And there’re cookies for dessert.”

No, Dwalin told himself sternly. No asking cute blonds to marry you before you even knew their name, sexual orientation and if they were really as adorable as they looked.  
  
“I’m Bilbo,” the blond said. “Bilbo Baggins. And I’ll have to confess I know who you are already.”

Okay, so now he had a name. Only two more things to go. Plenty of time for a spring wedding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know why I usually end up with Dwalin's POV when he's one of the main chars. But I love him, so who cares. (I'm not sure if I can pick a favourite Dwarf though, it's sooooo hard.)
> 
> And as a very meta comment, re the latest bit in At Your Service (chapter 15), Dwalin, you big hypocrite , ragging on Thorin for getting lost when you're no better.


	8. Up Against the Wall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam is convinced that Mister Oakenshield is a good person, regardless of what anyone else says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by Syxx ^w^
> 
> Hehehe, I wonder if this was what you were going for.

Sam liked working for Mister Oakenshield, and he didn't for one moment believe the rumours about the man having ties to the mob, or the gangs, or whatever illegal thing people had made up to entertained themselves.   
  
Mister Oakenshield was a good boss, a bit stern, but always fair, and even though he owned the garage he wasn’t afraid to get his hands dirty on the days when one of the mechanics called in sick.

At the start it was possible that Sam might even have had a crush on the man, but that was just because he’d always had a fondness for dark hair and blue eyes, and it had evened out into a slow burning hero worship, which had then turned into respect.  
  
As far as Sam was concerned it was strange that not all of the people working at the Durin Garage shared his opinion of their boss, and more than once Sam had been torn between the decision to be terribly impolite and just telling his co-workers to shut their stupid mouths, or saying nothing and feeling like he betrayed Mister Oakenshield with his silence.  
  
Usually, he went with the former, because while his mama had raised him to be polite, she’d not raised him to be a fool, and anyone with two eyes could see that Mister Oakenshield wasn’t involved with anything illegal or illicit. So what if he didn’t smile much and almost always looked grumpy, perhaps it was just how his face wanted to look and he simply couldn’t help it. You couldn't judge a man by his face.  
  
And hadn’t people seen how he acted around his nephews? He even _smiled_ when they visited the garage.   
  
But no, that just sparked comments on how he was training them to take over his ‘evil empire’ or some nonsense like that. Sure, Mister Oakenshield knew a lot of people who owned big, bulky motorbikes, and who wore a lot of leather, but that didn’t mean they were involved in organized crime! No, people were just stupid as normal, and Sam rather wished that Mister Oakenshield was a bit _less_ fair and actually fired people for being stupid even if they did a good job.  
  
Still, even Sam did a double-take the morning when Mister Oakenshield arrived sporting a black eye; a purpling, swollen bruise neatly ringing his left eye. He also looked even more inclined to glare anyone talking to him to death than normal, not that it stopped some of Sam’s more stupid co-workers from asking him what had happened.  
  
They naturally didn’t get a reply, just a blatantly untrue: “Nothing.” and then orders to get back to work.

Sam’s more cautious: “Are you alright, Mister Oakenshield?” merited a grunt and a nod before he was sent to work on a very beautiful Corvette from the 60’s, which he took as a tacit ‘thanks for caring, but I’m fine’.

As Sam really believed that Mister Oakenshield wouldn’t… well, he _would_ hurt a fly, he’d seen Mister Oakenshield kill loads of flies, but well, who wouldn’t hurt a fly?

Anyway, as he thought that all the rumours and gossip was decidedly false, he was more than a little taken aback the day when he saw Mister Oakenshield looming threateningly over a small blond man.  
  
It was a Saturday, so naturally this didn’t happen at the garage as Sam only worked weekdays. He’d had been on his way to the gardening shop; they were expecting to get a shipment of new seeds any day now and he wanted to pick through them before anyone else could, and he’d not really expected to pass an alley to find his boss with both arms braced on each side of a blond man -whose head just barely reached Mister Oakenshield’s shoulder – effectively trapping him against the wall. The blond had his hands pressed against Mister Oakenshield’s chest, trying to push him away, and after a moment’s hesitation Sam slowly made his way into the alley.   
  
His mama hadn’t raised him to be a coward either.  
  
Mister Oakenshield and the other man didn’t notice him, they were quite involved in what seemed to be an argument, but all he could hear was the low rumbling sound of Mister Oakenshield’s voice, they were speaking too quietly for him to make out any words.   
  
Even so, the nature of the, erm, _argument_ became fairly obvious when the small blond buried his hands in Mister Oakenshield’s hair and surged up to kiss him.  
  
 _Oh dear._

 Since his mama had definitely not raised him to be a peeping Tom, Sam began to tiptoe his way out of the alley, but a pained hiss made him turn his head.

 “Oh, I’m sorry, your poor face, I didn’t mean-.” The blond was actually wringing his hands as he worriedly gazed up at Mister Oakenshield.   
  
“It’s fine.”  
  
“If you’d just removed your trousers properly the other night-“  
  
“Bilbo…”  
  
“I’m just saying that it’s flattering that you forgot that you were wearing them, and getting ravished up against the wall was also nice -“  
  
“Only nice?”  
  
“Oh shush. But my heart just about stopped when you fell like that.”  
  
The blond, Bilbo – Sam assumed – hovered his fingers over Mister Oakenshield’s face before moving them to tuck a strand of black hair behind a big ear.  
  
“And even if you’re fine I’m sure my poor downstairs neighbours wondered if I’d let an elephant into the building.”  
  
“Very funny,” Mister Oakenshield said in a tone of voice that would leave more than one of Sam’s co-workers with a sudden urge to hide, but the little blond just smiled sunnily up at him.  
  
“Why thank you.”

When the pair started kissing again Sam realised that he was still standing around gawking at them, and it was probably very fortunate that they’d been too wrapped up in each other to notice him, because he couldn’t imagine that Mister Oakenshield would take kindly to someone spying on him, even if Sam hadn’t intended to. And even if standing around kissing in public wasn’t really a done thing.  
  
Sam’s cheeks burned as he wondered if kissing was all that they were going to do, but he sternly told himself that it was none of his business. If public indecency was the extent of Mister Oakenshield’s criminal activities then he could live with that.   
  
\- -  
  
Over the next few weeks Thorin couldn’t quite figure out why young Samwise attempted to imitate the colour of a ripe tomato every time they were in the same room, but he assumed that the little crush (yes he knew about that) the boy had had on him at the start of his employment had for whatever reason decided to make a return.  
  
Eventually it went away again which was a relief. Samwise was a nice boy, and a good mechanic, and Thorin desperately did not want to have a conversation that would end with them both being uncomfortable and Sam potentially miserable.

He’d said as much to Bilbo, and his lover had snorted.  
  
“He'd be _miserable_? Really?”  
  
“He’s young,” Thorin argued. “At his age everything is either the a catastrophe or a miracle.” 

Bilbo had hummed non-committally and then laughed breathlessly when Thorin had tickled him into submission, and to admitting that yes, Thorin was a miracle.  
  
But thankfully there’d been no need for a conversation with young Samwise, and he continued to be one of Thorin’s best workers. And he was the only one who didn’t seem surprised the day when Bilbo came by with the lunch Thorin had forgotten and when Bilbo absentmindedly kissed him as they said good-bye.

Thorin had needed to raise his voice to get everyone back to work, expect for Samwise who had simply smiled at him and given him a thumbs up.  
  
Thorin wasn’t quite sure what to make of that, but he appreciated it even so.


	9. Bilbo + magic = hey where did these breasts come from?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> see the incredibly imaginative title (and I'm sorry, I promise the actual story is better)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> because I accidentally updated this story/series earlier today with a chapter that should actually be in the hamster story, I felt I had to write something for this story as well

It wasn’t _fair_. Thorin wanted to bang his head against something. Forcefully and repeatedly.

He'd only recently been able to convince himself that he wasn't interested in their small, cute, curly haired burglar. That he wasn’t at all enticed by pointy ears (perish the thought) and round cheeks (let’s not go into details about exactly _which_ cheeks this referred to) and small hands. No.  
  
Nothing about Bilbo Baggins made Thorin want to undress him and gently push him down into a field of flowers and lick his collarbones. _Nothing_.  
  
And it had been bloody hard (no pun intended) work to get to that point of not being interested, and no sooner had Thorin managed to get there but for Bilbo to change into something different but just as enticing.  
  
There wasn’t a great deal of difference between their burglar as a male Hobbit and their burglar as a female one, but there was just _enough_ difference for Thorin’s carefully constructed shields and reasoning to be completely and utterly useless.  
  
Their burglar had always been a delightfully plush and pleasing little thing and that hadn’t changed, instead it was slightly enhanced with a new softness at the chest, and a little more padding at the hips.  
  
His nose was a little smaller, which was a bit of a shame, as was the lack of certain… parts, (parts that Thorin was of course not interested in, not at _ALL_ ), but to Thorin’s consternation he found that the sum of it all was still much too alluring and adorable. And he found that his own reaction was much like it had been at the beginning of their journey.  
  
Even the slight wiggle in Bilbo’s gait when he walked now was enough to completely catch Thorin’s attention, just like a ray of sunshine on honey-gold curls had managed to do when they’d been riding through the green landscape of the Shire, and that simply wasn’t _fair_.

If this would last then he would need to start all over again by convincing himself that he wasn’t interested. Thankfully Gandalf had said it would only be temporary, and Thorin _really_ hoped that the Wizard knew what he was talking about even though he clearly didn’t know what he was doing leaving his staff around for burglars to stumble over.  
  
Bilbo had also greeted the news about the accidental spell being temporary with some relief, albeit for not the same reasons as Thorin.  
  
The Hobbit had also seemed… annoyed, (yes Thorin was _annoyed_ with the wiggle in the burglar’s walk, _annoyed_ ,) but on Bilbo’s part the _irritation_ with the way he walked was due to his centre of gravity having shifted a bit which threw off his balance, making him occasionally stumble and trip, and Thorin shifted awkwardly where he was sitting as he remembered the time Bilbo had fallen and ended up on all fours and- _NO_.  
  
It was fortunate that they’d arrived to the shapeshifter’s house when this _unfortunate_ thing had come to pass, because if they’d been forced to fight any Orcs it would probably not end well. (And not only because of Thorin’s distraction because he _wasn’t_ distracted.)  


“Typical,” Bilbo murmured in a resigned sounding voice and Thorin realised that he’d been _staring_ and would have flinched back if he’d not been a king and kings did not flinch when caught staring by Hobbits which they on second thought hadn’t even been staring at in the first place, because why would he be staring? He wasn’t interested. Why _would_ he be interested? He wasn't-  
  
Bilbo moved and it made the shirt tighten over his chest and Thorin realised that he was still staring. Bloody- damn it, damn it _all_.  
  
They were alone out on the porch, the others having already retired for the night. Thorin contemplated saying that he’d just been staring at the carvings on the wooden pillar _behind_ Bilbo, but kings didn’t lie to hobbits that they might or might not have been caught staring by.  
  
“I’m-“ Thorin began, but he didn’t get any longer in his apology before suddenly having a lapful of squirming Hobbit and when his brain finally started working again he found that his hands had placed themselves firmly over fleshy hips, securely anchoring Bilbo to himself.  
  
“Of course this is what it would take,” Bilbo said with a sigh. “ _Magic_. Not what I- but still, if it’s the only way…”  
  
“What-“ Thorin tried to ask, only to have Bilbo lean up and press their lips together.  
  
This time Thorin’s brain didn’t start working until the moment when he gently stroked his hand over Bilbo’s side and that led to the Hobbit flinching.  
  
The Dwarf immediately pulled back from the kiss. “Are you hurt? What’s wrong? Should we stop? We’ll stop.”  
  
“I’m not hurt.” Bilbo bit his bottom lip and Thorin’s eyes were immediately drawn towards it. Was it a little fuller than it’d been before the spell? Or was it just because of the kissing? _Focus_ , Thorin sternly told himself. It was not the time for such thoughts.  
  
“It’s just, this isn’t… me. Not really. I mean, it is. But it doesn't feel like it’s me. It’s not my body. Even though it is. I thought I could- but no. And- I'm sorry.”  
  
Thorin gently nudged Bilbo’s chin upwards again when the Hobbit tried to look away.  
  
“No, I understand.” Which was somewhat a lie, because Thorin didn’t really understand what had prompted the kissing in the first place, but he could understand the strangeness of not being the way you were normally.  
  
It was a poor comparison, but after Smaug had come and Thorin had cut away most of his beard to honour the lost it had taken such a long time for him to get used to not having it. He couldn’t imagine suddenly (or even not to so suddenly) waking up in another body entirely, regardless of how small (or not small, because if there was some truth to the size of the feet and- _focus_ ) the individual changes were must be very strange and upsetting indeed.  
  
“Perhaps,” Thorin hesitated but decided to be brave because kings were brave, and Bilbo _had_ kissed him. “Perhaps we could try this at a later time?”

“I don't think I'll get used to this,” Bilbo said, shaking his head, and the sad look on his face was even more upsetting than the way he attempted to slide out of Thorin’s lap.  
  
“No,” Thorin protested. “ I meant, later after the spell has worn off. Only if you want of course,” he added, because perhaps this had just been a passing fancy on Bilbo’s part. To see what it would be like to make lov- _focus_.  
  
Thorin bit the inside of his cheek and most definitely did not think about what it would be to have Bilbo in his lap, enchanted or not, and have a lot less clothes between them.  
  
“But, you don't want-?” The wrinkle between Bilbo’s brows were exactly the same as before and Thorin fondly stroked a finger over it, allowed himself that much before gently lifting Bilbo off his knees to settle him on the bench as well.  
  
“If you want, then I want that as well,” Thorin said, trying desperately to find the right words and feeling like he wasn’t faring all that well. “But if you don’t want, then I will do my best not to want.” He’d done it once before, more or less. And he would do a better job of it this time. If he knew for sure that Bilbo wasn’t interested then it should be easier.  
  
“But you’ve never- Before the spell, you weren’t interested?” Bilbo’s head tilted in confusion and Thorin reflexively told himself that he didn’t find that adorable at _all_.  
  
“I could say the same,” he answered. “You’ve never given me any indication that my feelings for you were returned, and as such I-“  
  
“ _Feelings_?”  
  
The young, immature part of Thorin (and really, shouldn't that be gone by now, considering that he was almost two centuries old?)  curled up with its arms around its head, complaining about how he’d _really_ done it now. The other parts straightened their back and held their head high. No turning back.  
  
“Yes,” Thorin said with what hopefully seemed as a regal nod. “You are of course very pleasing to the eye, but that is not the whole reason why I’ve found myself drawn to you.” If it had been so, then perhaps Thorin would have done better at convincing himself that he wasn’t interested...  
  
“As I mentioned before I regret making you feel as if you did not have your place with this company, and I hope that you will believe me when I say that regardless of what will or will not happen, you will always be welcome amongst us.”  
  
“So when I’m…” a small hand flapped in front of Bilbo's chest. “-me again, you’d still be interested?”  
  
Thorin nodded.  
  
“Huh,” Bilbo said. But he didn’t sound displeased, just slightly… confused.  
  
Thorin reached out a hand but hesitated just before his fingers touched soft curls. “May I?”  
  
Now it was Bilbo’s turn to nod and Thorin gently stroked his fingers through Bilbo’s hair, cupping the back of his neck and then leaning down to bring their foreheads together.  
  
“Would you permit me to court you, Bilbo Baggins? There is no need to answer now, you can-”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Yes?”  
  
“Yes.” Bilbo licked his lips. “Just, nothing more than kissing before the magic has stopped.”  
  
“Of course,” Thorin agreed. Then he gave into temptation and did something he had been longing to do a long time.  
  
“You kissed my nose,” Bilbo said, scrunching said nose up in a frown that made him look like the bunny their host had described him as earlier.  
  
“I did,” Thorin said with a small smile. He had, and he’d _liked_ it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> run away from the clichés! run! (written very quickly so if anything weird, I'm soooorry!)
> 
>  
> 
> On a slightly more serious note, yes I have male pronouns for Bilbo even though he's now in a female body because that's exactly how it is, HE is in a female body, so that doesn't change anything about how he views himself, or how Thorin views him.  
> Sorry, but it's so weird/annoying when someone gets genderbent on accident and the author refers to them as the new sex. We're not necessarily the packaging, people. And remember that's how it works even without Wizards leaving their magical staffs around all over the place /end mini-rant


	10. G-rated Tentacle fic, Is it Possible?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry, I’m fairly sure this makes no sense. Hopefully it's still kinda amusing.

“What did you say they were called?” Kíli said to Gandalf, not looking away from Bilbo.  
  
“Tentacles,” Gandalf said with the tone of voice of someone who knew that he would be repeating said word again in the foreseeable future.  
  
“Tent-a-calls,” Kíli repeated thoughtfully.  
  
“Will you all please go away,” Bilbo murmured, voice muffled since he was hiding his face in his hands. “I’d like to be alone. Perhaps forever.”  
  
“I really don’t think we ought to leave you alone,” Bofur said. “Just in case there’s some ill effects. Don’t faint now,” he added. “I don’t mean to scare you.”  
  
Exactly what Bilbo muttered couldn’t be made out, but from the way the third of his newly materialised four tentacles waved at Bofur it seemed to be something rude. They were all coming out from his back, and they had completely ruined his shirt, his waistcoat and his coat, and Bilbo wanted them gone, away, no more, vanished, anywhere but on him. If he _ever_ saw that Radagast again Bilbo would shove his-

“And you said they were usually on fish?” Kíli asked. “Never seen a fish with anything like that.”  
  
“I said-“ Gandalf cut himself off and sighed. “No matter, we’ll go with fish I think or we’ll be here all day. But these aren’t really like those anyway. If you look-“  
  
“Please don’t,” Bilbo murmured.  
  
“-you’ll see that they’re much like Bilbo’s other limbs, and they’re covered in hair much like his feet are. Tentacles aren’t usually hairy.”

Bilbo jumped when Kíli poked one, and all four tentacles flailed, one succeeding in whacking him over the head.  
  
“Ow,” Kíli complained, rubbing his head, lower lip jutting out in a pout.  
  
“Oh don’t even,” Bilbo warned, finally looking away from his hands to glare at the young Dwarf. “I promise that you won’t like the results.”  
  
“Kíli, leave Master Baggins alone,” Thorin said brusquely.  
  
“But-“ Kíli protested.  
  
“Ah!” Dwalin said, grabbing Kíli by the back of his shirt when he tried to go closer again.  
  
“We need to continue.” Thorin nodded towards the edge of Mirkwood that was visible at the horizon. “It will be dark soon and I would have us cover more ground. If you are well enough to travel?” he added, looking at Bilbo.  
  
The Hobbit sighed, but ended up nodding. He felt perfectly normal, well, apart from the four new _things_ growing out of his back.  
  
 _All_ he’d said to Radagast was that he sometimes wished he had more than two arms, because it would be helpful when it came to carrying a pack and brushing a curl out of his eyes and scratching an itch at the back of his neck all at the same time, but _everyone_ said things like that at some point. He had _not_ been asking for something like this.

It appeared that Radagast had understood as much after Bilbo had fainted. And he had fainted after he’d realised what the spell the Wizard had cast had done to him. When he'd woken up there had been a distinct lack of brown Wizards around, because apparently he'd recalled an urgent _meeting_.

Oh when Bilbo got his hands, or _things_ , on that Wizard…  
  
-  
  
Camp that night was an extremely awkward place. Everyone looked at him. Even Thorin and Dwalin could apparently not stop themselves from gawking and Bilbo just wanted to sink through the ground. But these tentacle things weren’t even useful in that aspect because when he tried to get them to dig a hole they just wobbled awkwardly and then curled around his shoulders. He had apparently no control over them.  
  
At least they seemed to dislike Kíli’s mischief making as much as Bilbo himself did because they were getting extremely good at whacking the Dwarf over the head if he came too close. At the moment he wasn’t, sitting between his brother and Ori across the camp, wearing a very sullen expression. Served him well, as far as Bilbo was concerned. He did not appreciate being treated as a curiosity.  
  
“Master Baggins?” Dori hesitated just out of range from the _things_ and held up a needle and a coil of thread. “I thought I would offer my assistance in repairing your coat? And shirt too if you wanted.”  
  
“Oh.” Bilbo gave the Dwarf a startled smile. “That would be very kind of you. But, I-“ Bilbo looked over his shoulder and almost poked his own eye out. “I’m not sure if that would be wise? I don’t wish to harm you in any way, but I really don’t seem to be able to control what they are doing.”  
  
“Perhaps you will allow me to try and we’ll see how it goes?” Dori suggested.

Bilbo bit his bottom lip. “Just promise me to be careful. I won’t be offended if you leave. I understand this must seem very strange to you.”  
  
“To you as well,” Dori said sympathetically. “The nerve of that Wizard.”  
  
From Gandalf’s corner came a small cough.  
  
“Right,” Dori said as he came to stand next to Bilbo. “Now, you four are going to behave. If you do, we’ll get along famously.”  
  
Bilbo could feel one of his things moving, but he wasn’t really sure what was happening. “Dori?”  
  
“Not to worry, Master Baggins,” Dori said. “We’re just shaking… hands. Or what counts as it. Now then, let’s begin.”  
  
-  
  
Bilbo did feel better once the slight breeze at his back had stopped, and once Dori was done the Hobbit turned around to thank him. He’d intended for a smile and a nod, or perhaps clasping the Dwarf’s hand, but his _things_ seemed to be of another opinion, swiftly gathering Dori in for an embrace.  
  
“I’m so sorry,” Bilbo murmured into Dori’s coat, hands fluttering awkwardly at his side as he didn’t know what to do with them.  
  
“Quite all right,” Dori promised, kind soul as he clearly was and he was now officially forgiven from making a mess out of Bilbo's collection of tea.  
  
“You need us to leave you two alone?” Nori called, smirk evident in his voice.  
  
“Nori, do be quiet,” Dori said sternly.  
  
Thankfully, the hold loosened soon after that and the _things_ went to curl themselves around Bilbo’s middle, seeming very pleased with themselves.  
  
The Hobbit dared a look around the camp and found mostly amusement on the faces of his companions, except for on Thorin’ and Dwalin’s. The two of them had heavy frowns, undoubtedly from annoyance of the extra burden Bilbo would be now, not being able to control himself properly.  
  
“Gandalf, are you _really_ sure you can’t get rid of them?” Bilbo asked pleadingly.  
  
“Quite sure,” Gandalf said. “I don’t think we would want me to experiment. Or would we?”  
  
Feeling very much dejected again, Bilbo went to collect his bedroll and settled it quite some distance away from the others.

“That’s not going to work,” Dwalin said gruffly. “You can’t sleep that far away from the rest of us. It’s not safe.”  
  
Bilbo pulled the bedroll about two inches closer. “Better?”  
  
Dwalin’s snort seemed to be a no.  
  
“Put them next to ours,” Thorin said, nodding down at the space between his and Dwalin’s.  
  
Bilbo’s eyes widened. No, no, no. He couldn’t sleep there. Between them. With _things_ that did whatever they pleased. That was such a bad idea.  
  
“I don’t think-“ Bilbo began, cutting himself off to blink up at Dwalin when the large Dwarf was suddenly standing next to him.  
  
“Continue with that then,” he grunted as he bent to pick up Bilbo’s bedroll. “But do it over here.”  
  
“I don’t want to hurt you,” Bilbo protested, concern turning into annoyance when Dwalin merely snorted again.  
  
“If the worst you do is to hit us over the head then you don’t need to worry. Certain dwarflings are just being cry-babies.” The last was said over his shoulder, clearly aimed at Kíli. “’sides, you don’t need to worry about Thorin and me poking you during the night, so that should keep the whacking to a minimum.”  
  
Bilbo almost said something about poking and whacking that would not at _all_ have been proper for polite company, but he managed to bite his tongue just in time.  
  
-  
  
When he woke up the next morning (of course sleeping on his stomach) Bilbo could hear Dwalin’s quiet snoring and Thorin’s steady breathing. Good. He’d not strangled either of them during the night then. Not that the person on watch would have allowed such a thing, but you never knew.  
  
Cranking one eye open Bilbo turned his head and glanced blearily at Dwalin sleeping to his right. Then he blinked.  
  
“Get out of there,” he hissed to the indecent thing that had managed to wedge itself inside Dwalin’s shirt and armour. It didn’t listen. Big surprise there. It looked smug even, as smug as something without a face could look anyway.  
  
Reaching behind himself Bilbo pulled at what he thought was the right tentacle.  
  
There was a soft sound from his left, and when he looked that way it was to find Thorin waking up, whilst another one of the clearly moronic _things_ gently petted his arm and shoulder.  
  
Bilbo clearly couldn’t fault the _things_ for their taste, but you simply couldn’t go around petting people because you fancied them- it. It. Bilbo had definitely meant to say ‘it’. Because you fancied it. No fancying of any other kind going on, nope.  
  
“I’m so sorry,” Bilbo whispered to Thorin as he flailed behind himself to try and pull the blasted things away from both Dwarfs. “I don’t- I don’t control them. Terribly sorry.”  
  
“What exactly is going on here,” came Dwalin’s voice and Bilbo winced. Brilliant. Now they were both and awake and conscious about how they were being molested.  
  
Bilbo got up on his knees and _yanked_. It hurt a bit (he’d considered if the things could just be chopped off but apparently that would not be a good plan) but at least it worked. All four tentacles came to sullenly wrap themselves around his waist, or, three of them did. One hesitated and waved coquettishly at Dwalin before curling up.  
  
“What are you lot up to?” Bofur called from where he was sitting on watch and Bilbo could feel his cheeks flush.  
  
“I’m truly sorry, please excuse me,” he told a confused looking Thorin and a disgruntled looking Dwalin, and then he fled.  
  
-  
Bilbo had prepared himself for an awkward day, but he’d not been prepared for Dwalin and Thorin to each take one of his arms and then stop moving until they were some distance behind the rest of the company.  
  
“Really now,” Bilbo protested, trying to ignore how the moronic _things_ rather seemed to like the attention. They were already petting the two Dwarfs in a most familiar (and inappropriate) manner.  
  
He didn’t really _feel_ what they were doing per se, only in a really distant sort of way. But he had no problem imagining what Thorin’s beard would feel like, or how sturdy Dwalin’s shoulder would be beneath his hand. Or-  
  
“Stop it,” he hissed, and Thorin and Dwalin both released his arms. “No, I meant-“ he began before he realised that that sounded as if he _wanted_ them to hold him. Which he of course didn’t. Nope.  
  
“We would like to ask a few questions,” Dwalin said, his tone neutral.  
  
“Can I start by apologising?” Bilbo asked. “I swear I can’t control what they’re doing, but I’m sorry even so.”  
  
“Is that so?” Thorin asked, and Bilbo nodded.  
  
“When you were annoyed with Kíli, these things smacked him,” Dwalin said thoughtfully. “When Dori helped you, they let them him be, except for to hug him. Seems that you might have some control of them. I- _hey now_.”  
  
“Oh I can’t believe you!” Bilbo squawked at one of the tentacles, reaching behind himself to give it a small shake. “You don’t touch _anyone_ there unless they ask first.” The Hobbit turned to Dwalin. “I’m so, so sorry.”  
  
“Are you really?”  
  
“Of course!” Bilbo exclaimed.  
  
“So you if I told you that you _could_ touch me there, you wouldn’t want to?”  
  
“Of course no- what?”

Dwalin opened his mouth to answer but then a smirk flashed over his face and he raised an eyebrow. “Doing all right there, Thorin?”

Bilbo turned his head to see all four tentacles petting Thorin’s arms and face in such a way that suggested that if they could have, they would have been cooing happily. Thorin didn’t look upset, more… confused really.  
  
“Oh dear,” Bilbo murmured. “I’m-“  
  
“You keep saying that you’re sorry,” Dwalin said. “ _Why_ are you sorry?”  
  
“Because you’ve not asked to be touched of course!” Bilbo said, folding his arms over his chest.  
  
Dwalin hummed, then spread his arms. “So touch me.”  
  
The next moment Bilbo was pressed to his chest as the tentacles had wrapped themselves around Dwalin, bringing Bilbo with them.  
  
“Sorry now?” Dwalin asked, and Bilbo had no idea what to reply to that.  
  
“No?” he tried.  
  
“Good,” Dwalin grunted. “Thorin?”  
  
A warm, solid body fitted itself as close to Bilbo’s back as it could, and the stupid _things_ wriggled happily.  
  
“I have to say that this is a little strange,” Thorin murmured.  
  
“Pfft,” Dwalin scoffed. “Don’t complain.”  
  
“Is this- are you all right?” Thorin asked, his breath hot in Bilbo’s ear and the Hobbit shivered.  
  
“Yes?”  
  
-  
  
Some time during the next night the tentacles disappeared because when Bilbo woke the next morning they were gone. Thorin and Dwalin were not. They were both curled up around him just as they’d been when they’d gone to sleep. Thorin’s arm was curled around Bilbo’s waist and Dwalin’s was stretched over them both.  
  
The Hobbit was still not going to _thank_ Radagast, but perhaps he wouldn’t threaten to shove the Wizard’s staff into an unmentionable place either.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3 diemarysues


	11. Close Encounters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As anyone else growing up with the X-files Bofur had wondered what aliens might look like. Without getting into details, let’s just say that all ideas he had were wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Saw the new X-men film and it kinda made me sad so I wrote this, and now I'm going to bed.

“Hello there, handsome.”  
  
Bofur looked up from his phone at the frankly gorgeous blond guy who was smiling down at him. Grinning really. In the way that suggested that if he was a cat he would have eaten the canary and a couple of swans and maybe an ostrich.  
  
After making this observation Bofur glanced to his right and left to check that Blondie wasn’t speaking to anyone else who had just materialised on the bench. Because while there was nothing wrong with his self-esteem it wasn’t every day that someone that pretty tried to chat him up. And with ‘not every day’ Bofur rather meant never.

 But the park bench was empty, so logic would seem to indicate that it was indeed him who was being addressed.

“Hullo,” Bofur said and hoped with all his little heart that Blondie was not a prostitute. That hope kinda flew out of the non-existing window when Blondie plonked himself down in his lap and tried to kiss him.  
  
“Whoa there,” Bofur protested. “I don’t think I’m interested in what you’re-“  
  
Blondie hid his face in Bofur’s neck and breathed deeply, and as he breathed out he made a small content noise. “I _found_ you.”  
  
“Good on you?” Bofur tried and awkwardly patted the young man on his back. “Now, could you please get out of my lap?”  
  
Huge blue eyes turned his way, and they looked utterly despairing. “But I only just found you.”  
  
With a sigh Bofur tried to nudge Blondie off his lap and onto the bench, ‘tried’ being the operative word as surprisingly strong arms wound themselves around his back and clung. “I don’t have any cash?” Bofur tried, at the same time sternly told himself that he was under no circumstances going to get it either.

Blondie immediately lost his sad expression and perked right back up. “I have money if you want it,” he said brightly and cuddled a little closer. “Those small sheet things? I have loads.”  
  
“Ooookay,” Bofur said, more than a little confused. “I don’t-“  
  
“I can-“ Blondie frowned and gnawed thoughtfully on his bottom lip. “I can buy you coffee,” he stated. “Or dinner. Or a drink? Do you come here often? I am new in town, I would like directions to your place of residence.”  
  
And this had started out as such a normal day too.  
  
Bofur looked over the blond’s shoulder to try and spot any potential minder who would be looking for a runaway charge. He was really very pretty, but Bofur did not pick-up prostitutes or the mentally challenged as consent was something of a deal breaker.  
  
Reciting those pick-up lines had made the blond on his lap sound like a little kid reading reading lines that had been painstakingly taught to him and Bofur _really_ hoped it wasn’t as bad as all that.  
  
“Oh no,” Blondie suddenly said, his face falling again. “I didn’t introduce myself. I’m doing this all wrong.”  
  
He scrambled out of Bofur’s lap, which suddenly felt very cold and lonely, and Bofur expected him to- well, to do anything except to disappear into thin air.

To be sure Bofur looked beneath the bench. He found an empty soda can, but that was all.  
  
Bombur was going to have a field day when Bofur told him that he’d hallucinated a cute blond giving him half-a lap dance. And then after he’d stopped laughing he’d book him an appointment with a psychiatrist and-  
  
“Hello there!”

Blondie was back, and Bofur blinked up at him, flinching back little when a hand was thrust out at him.  
  
“My name is Fíli,” Blondie told him sunnily. “I’d like to buy you coffee and dinner or drinks, and start a family with you.”  
  
Bofur, more on reflex and good manners than anything else, had reached out to shake the hand offered to him, but at the last part of that statement he froze. That did not stop Blondie who closed the short distance and took Bofur’s hand into his own. Only, instead of shaking it he merely stroked his thumb over the back of Bofur’s hand and hummed contentedly.  
  
“Listen,” Bofur said and carefully pulled his hand free, manfully ignoring the sad expression that brought to Blondie’s face. “I’m not sure what exactly you’re trying to do here, but I’m not interested.”  
  
“But you’re my mate,” Blondie protested passionately. “I’ve come such a long way to find you. I’ve crossed the galaxy!”  
  
Right, so something of a nutter then, Bofur decided.  
  
“Be that as it may, I think you’ve got me confused with someone else.”  
  
“No.” Blondie shook his head. “I’m sure. You’re _my_ mate. Look!”  
  
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a flat device that Bofur first mistook for a tablet. When Blondie began poking at it that only cemented that belief, but as a three dimensional overview of something Bofur assumed was the galaxy was projected from the screen Bofur swallowed and agreed with himself that he might have been wrong about the tablet thing. This was not something the new iPad was supposed to be capable of.

Blondie poked at it some more and the stars and whatnot changed into a rather pretty picture of Earth, and then it changed again into one of those satellite photos, and then again and-  
  
“Is this one of them hidden camera shows?” Bofur tried as he looked at a projection of his own shell-shocked expression. It looked just like him, and moved when he did, and the only thing to set it apart from a mirror was how his face was surrounded by dozens of tiny arrows pointing to him.  
  
Blondie’s brow furrowed. “I don’t know what a 'Hidden Camera Show' is.” He poked the tablet thing again and the second Bofur disappeared. The blond looked earnestly down at Bofur and tucked the tablet thing away again. This time Bofur couldn't help but notice that the pocket he put the thing in was really not large enough to be able to fit it, but somehow it still seemed to fit.  
  
“You’re my _mate_. The Guide said nothing about ‘Hidden Camera Shows’ but they don’t sound very nice. I want you to only have very nice things. That is why I have money. The Guide said that money is important. And means of transportation and the place of residence as well. All good things for a mate to have.”  
  
“I-“ Bofur tried but Blondie interrupted him before he could get any futher.  
  
“I don’t have a 'car',” he said gravely. “But I can buy one. And I have my spaceship-”  
  
“You have a spaceship?”  
  
Blondie nodded. “Want to see it? It can go _very_ fast.”  
  
There was a bright light.  

 

-

 

“Bloody hell,” Bofur said and dragged his palm over his face. “Holy fucking hell. Right. Okay.” He looked up at Blondie, then back out the window and down at a small blue-green planet hovering in the distance, and then back at Blondie again, Blondie who might be an alien, and Bofur rather hoped that he was one considering that the other alternative was that he’d gone insane, and nodded.  
  
“So I think I’d like for you to buy me that drink now.”  
  
The smile that spread over that much too pretty mouth was radiant, and Bofur quietly thought to himself that he was so terribly, terribly doomed.

  
With or without anal probing.


	12. Love Is Blind (Or Just Kinda Stupid)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ori would maybe have clued on sooner if Bifur hadn’t been so nice to everyone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> diemarysues' fault!

Ori would maybe have clued on sooner if Bifur hadn’t been so nice to everyone.

Unless you were an Orc, but considering everything Ori knew about Bifur, and of Orcs, that wasn’t surprising. But Bifur was nice to almost everyone else.   
  
On the way to the Shire when they had first met up with him and Bofur and Bombur he had been nice. But well, so had Bofur and Bombur. Bofur was perhaps even _more_ nice to even more people, so Ori had just assumed that was how the cousins usually acted with everyone.  
  
And Bifur had been nice to Bilbo once they’d arrived at the Hobbit’s home, doing most of the cleaning up after their supper, and again before they left the next morning. He had been nice to the Hobbits and Men they’d come across as they were leaving the west, and especially nice to any children who dared to talk to him, smiling at them and letting them touch their tiny, sticky hands to the axe in his forehead if they wanted to. 

He always offered to take the middle watch if there was a tiff about it (no one really wanted the middle watch because that meant you didn’t get to sleep for very long before having to get up again), and he was even polite to the Elves during their stay in Rivendell. Making appreciative noises about their food that Ori had first assumed was the very _height_ of politeness (because ugh, green things were _not_ meant to be eaten) but no, Bifur actually liked the food. And he was that nice.

And it had continued like that. Always nice, always willing to talk to Ori or listen to him talk about something or other, always attentive and smiling and just- _nice_.  
  
If he had only been nice to Ori, well, okay, that would have been a bit strange, and rude (to the others), but at least Ori would have _realised_.  
  
He would have been _prepared_.   
  
If he’d been prepared there was not a chance that he would just have stood stock-still in front of Bifur like an idiot and stared at the very nice little box (dark wood, might be oak) with four even nicer steel pen nibs in it that Bifur was holding. He'd been gawking at it really, as if it was something beyond his abilities to comprehend.   
  
His thoughts would _not_ have been racing around in his head like upset ants, and he would _not_ have had any trouble finding just the right thing to say as he accepted the gift. The _courting_ gift.

He would not have stood there and watched the cautious pleasure in Bifur's eyes (because it was _really_ a very nice gift to be able to offer someone who liked to write and draw) melt away into- into weary acceptance when Ori didn’t, wouldn’t ( _couldn_ ’t!) say anything.

He would not have remained silent even as Bifur put the little box on the low table in the hall and left, smiling at Ori as he did so, but it was nothing like his usual smiles.

If Ori had realised that Bifur actually _liked_ him- he would-  
  
Ori blinked as the door closed behind Bifur with a firm but polite thud.   
  
“Wait,” he tried to say, but his tongue tripped over itself and the sound that came out was- well, you would have to be very gifted to recognize it as a ‘wait’. And it wasn’t much louder than the squeak of a mouse, a small one, so Bifur didn’t hear it.  
  
Walking didn’t really go that much better than talking, but Ori picked himself up from the floor and continued his scramble for the door. It wouldn’t open at first, because Ori – despite having lived in Erebor for more than three months now, forgot that he needed to pull and not push. When he figured that out and got the blasted thing open Bifur was already at the end of the long corridor leading into one of the main halls, and there were lots of other people in the hallway, who would raise their eyebrows and look at him if he yelled.   
  
This was the downside of living in a very nice and popular area of Erebor as opposed to a not so nice and not so popular part of Ered Luin – there people had tended not to spend too much time in the halls to avoid such people as Nori coming along to see what they had in their pockets, and even if they had been about, they wouldn't have cared unless he yelled something to insult them.  
  
Ori resolutely squared his shoulders when they tried to hunch. Those people hadn’t been with them to reclaim Erebor, who cared what they thought. He could yell all he wanted and if they didn’t like it they could just go and find a dragon and see how well they handled _that_.  
  
“BIFUR! WAIT!”  
  
The people next to him all turned to look at him, but Bifur didn’t. Hadn’t he heard? Or didn’t he want to hear…

“Bifur!” Ori called again just as Bifur rounded the corner and disappeared.  
  
Ori knew that he didn’t really need to speak with Bifur that very minute. It wasn’t like either of them was going to leave Erebor and even if he wouldn't actually try and seek Bifur out they would run into each other sooner or later. But if he didn’t talk to Bifur right away Bifur would continue to wear that smile, the one that had the corner of his mouth quirk upwards but still managed to look sad. And that just wouldn't do.

Pushing through the people milling about in the hallway (mumbling apologies to the ones he actually _had_ to nudge out of the way instead of just going around) Ori raced to try and catch up with Bifur. He rounded the corner only to see Bifur disappear behind the next.

“Bifur!”  
  
Ori ducked beneath the waving arms of a Dwarf who was in the middle of telling his audience of two a most _fascinating_ story that had both the ladies listening to him struggle not to yawn. Ori ignored both the protest the storyteller made as he was interrupted and the sighs of relief the other two couldn’t quite hide.  
  
“Bifur!”  
  


“Bifur! Bifu- Omph!”   
  
Going around the next corner had Ori running straight into someone and he would have fallen had they not managed to steady the both of them.  
  
“My apolo-“ Ori’s eyes flicked up to meet those of the other Dwarf and the words on his tongue melted away like snow on hot iron. Bifur looked down at him, concern in his eyes, and thankfully that horrible smile was nowhere to be seen.  
  
Big warm hands rested on Ori’s upper arms and when Bifur released him and took a step back Ori felt horribly cold.   
  
For a few moments his mouth and jaw moved without him actually managing to find any words in either Westron or Khuzdul and there was a certain irony in that it now was _him_ who couldn’t manage to express himself when it was Bifur that most had trouble understanding. Not that Ori had ever had a problem with that, you just had to pay attention to him.   
  
What he couldn’t find the words for he had no problems finding the signs for, and what Iglishmêk didn’t cover he made up his own signs for. And they were always very good.  
  
Really, paying attention was all you needed to do. And Ori had never minded having to pay attention to Bifur. He just- he hadn’t known that Bifur was paying attention back.   
  
If anything Ori would have guessed that Bifur would have been interested in Dori or Nori, and just being nice to their little brother to get on their good side. Or that he viewed him like one of the children that deserved even more niceties than other people. But there was no way that Ori could reconcile either of those things with the pen nibs that Bifur had given to him, or with the look in his eyes when he’d presented them. Or the horrible look he'd been wearing as he’d left, a look that seemed to be slowly creeping back onto his face to replace the concern creasing his brow.

“Thank you,” Ori blurted. “For the gift. I like it. It’s really- thank you.”  
  
Bifur nodded slowly but didn’t say anything. Perhaps he was waiting for Ori to explain that he couldn’t really accept it, or that it wouldn’t mean what Bifur wanted it to mean, but he probably hadn’t expected Ori to stretch up and press a kiss to his cheek.  
  
When Ori pulled back he knew that he was most likely blushing, and he knew the people around them were watching them, and he knew that he didn’t really care about any of that.

“Thank you,” he said again, softer and definitely less panicked, but not any less sincerely. “I’m sorry I didn’t say anything. I was just-“ Ori shrugged. “I didn’t expect it?”

“ _I did not mean to cause offence,”_ Bifur said haltingly and Ori’s eyes widened.   
  
“No, no, I- I didn’t say I didn’t want it. I do. I- You surprised me. Could we-” Ori bit his lip. “And I don’t even have a gift for you. I didn’t know-“

“Ori,” Bifur rumbled and Ori paused and bit his lip again. “ _You accept my gift_?”  
  
The younger nodded, perhaps with a tad too much fervour but he wanted to make it absolutely clear that he very much wanted what Bifur had offered, beyond just the nibs (pretty as they had been).  
  
When Bifur smiled Ori’s hands twitched with the want to bury themselves in messy hair and hold Bifur still so he could taste what the smile felt like. But they were just beginning to court and standing in the middle of a crowded corridor and it really wasn’t appropriate to-  
  
“Stuff it,” Ori muttered to the little voice in his head that was entirely Dori.  
  
Someone behind him gasped when Ori allowed his fingers to sink into Bifur’s hair and then again when he leaned in to press their lips together. For a few moments Bifur was like solid stone beneath Ori’s touch but then he relaxed and his hands came up to press lightly against the small of Ori’s back.  
  
Someone, perhaps the same person, gasped again. As if they were watching something hideously inappropriate. Which they weren’t, at least not unless Bifur decided to move his hands down a few inches.  
  
Ori squirmed a little just to see if that would happen but apparently not. Perhaps just as well, or Dori would probably try and yell at them when he found out.

“Would you like to have dinner with me tonight?” Ori asked and Bifur nodded and moved a hand up to cup Ori’s face, brushing his thumb over Ori’s cheek. A cheek that would probably begin to hurt soon due to how wide Ori was smiling. But who cared! Because Bifur was smiling too, a real smile. And Ori wanted very much for him to continue to do so.   
  
Perhaps he should go outside to search for flowers before dinner. Bifur liked flowers. Sometimes for eating and sometimes just for looking at. Ori didn’t at all understand the appeal of either, but if it would mean a smile he would happily get green things for Bifur. As long as he didn’t have to eat them.

Unless that _really_ would make Bifur happy. Then he could agree to at least try it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any suggestions for other pairings that isn't Bilbo/Thorin?


	13. The Shirt Off His Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All Nori wants is a clean shirt. Really.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aras_fixation and MostlyTuesday asked for Dwalin/Nori

“Nah, I’m just doing laundry,” Nori told his brother, phone pressed between his neck and shoulder. “A lot of laundry, mind you. I had no clean clothes left. I was faced with stealing one of Dwalin's shirt or walking around naked."  
  
On Nori the shirt looked more like a tent than a shirt, or maybe like one of those Hawaiian muumuu things since he wasn’t wearing trousers. Not that tents came with trousers, but whatever. Still, it had no stains, and it didn’t smell funky. Those were two good things. He could handle looking like a kid playing dress-up in their parents’ clothes. Wasn’t like anyone was around to see him anyway. Ah, the joys of being a true adult who owned their own washing machine.  
  
… Okay, the joys of _shagging_ a true adult who owned their own washing machine. And a dryer. But before Nori had moved in, not a toaster. Sacrilege.  
  
“If you do laundry more often, that doesn’t happen,” Ori pointed out.  
  
“Laundry,” Nori said as he stuffed a bunch of (mostly) dark clothes in the washer. “Is bloody boring. If you don’t feel like doing the dishes you can just buy those disposable plates and whatnot-“  
  
“Which is really bad for the environment,” Ori muttered.  
  
“-but what are you going to do if you don’t want to do laundry?” Nori grabbed the phone again and grabbed the washing powder. “There are no good options. Going naked will get you arrested. Using the dirty clothes is disgusting. Always buying new clothes is, okay, fairly fun but there are limits to the size of my bank account.” Being a painter was not something he would want to give up, but it was also a career that required another job on the side. At least for now, fingers crossed.  
  
Ori snorted. “Apparently you’ve solved it by stealing Dwalin’s clothes.”  
  
“Yeah but they’ll get dirty too and then it’s back to doing laundry or getting rid of Dwalin to find someone else with clean clothes and since we’ve just moved in together it would feel pretty stupid to dump him because he ran out of clean clothes.” Nori paused. “Or maybe _he_ ’ll do the laundry if all of his clothes are dirty. That would work. Or just buy new ones, _he_ can afford it.”  
  
“Nori you can’t keep stealing Dwalin’s clothes.”  
  
“You’ll find that you’re underestimating me,” Nori sniffed. "Have you forgotten who it was who stole principle Thranduil's stuffed elk two years in a row?"  
  
Stealing your own school's mascot was perhaps a little stupid, but it had been lots of fun. Especially when the dorks from Rivendell Academy had gotten the blame for it. The elk hadn't been properly elk-sized or anything, but since it had been standing on Thranduil's desk Nori still considered it a feat worthy of respect.  
  
“Okay, you _shouldn’t_ keep stealing Dwalin’s clothes.”  
  
“But if I steal them I don’t have to do laundry.” Nori pushed the start button on the machine and shook his head. “And people think you’re the clever one in the family. It’s terribly sad. Does Dori know?”  
  
“That you’re stealing Dwalin’s shirts?”  
  
“That you’re not really the smart one. If you’re not, it has to be one of us, so Dori’s chances are 50-50.” Nori grinned as he strolled into the kitchen. “Though with my plan to avoid doing laundry I think my chances are better than his. He can be the pretty one. I'm gracious, I'll give that up for lent.”  
  
“Beorn is not going to let you work in his bar if you look like you’re drowning in your clothes.”  
  
“You’re assuming that Beorn is in any way a normal employer,” Nori said as he grabbed the bottle of juice from the fridge. “As long as I don't show up wearing fur he couldn't care less."  
  
“Fine,” Ori sighed. “But aren't you always saying that the tips is what make that job worth it? Are you really going to get any tips looking like you’ve just shrunk a foot and lost 15 stones?”  
  
“Dwalin is not that big,” Nori protested. Then he snickered. “No, I take it back. He’s a _very_ big boy.”

“Sadly, I already know this,” Ori said, and Nori could almost see the annoyed little frown on his brother’s forehead. “Because you texted to tell me after first spending the night with him.”  
  
“Big news has to be shared,” Nori smirked. “Emphasis on the-“  
  
“Change subject or I’m hanging up now.”  
  
“News?”  
  
Ori sighed.  
  
“Fine, we’ll change subject. When are you going to come up for a visit? Oh, hang on,” Nori added as he heard a key being put into the front door. “Either Dwalin’s home or there’s a burglar. With keys. Very suspicious.”  
  
“If it’s a burglar tell him to give back your sense of modesty.”  
  
“Definitely not the smart one, assuming that I had one to begin with. Really, you should know better.”  
  
“I don’t know about the smart one,” Ori mused. “But between you and Dori I’m definitely the normal one. That’s kind of nice actually. I can live with that.”  
  
“Hey,” Dwalin said as he walked into the kitchen, but he'd no sooner walked in before he stopped as if he’d run into an invisible wall.  
  
“Hey?” Nori replied and looked around the kitchen for anything out the ordinary. No snakes in the curtains, no ferrets on the lamp, definitely no aliens in the bowl of fruit. Nothing that would merit such a thunderstruck look on Dwalin’s face.  
  
“You’re not not-talking because you're kissing are you?” Ori said after a few seconds of quiet. “Because then I’m definitely hanging up.”  
  
“I think I somehow broke Dwalin,” Nori said and narrowed his eyes at his lover. “I knew doing the laundry was a mistake.” It had to be the laundry, that was the only strange thing he'd done that day. Except trying to paint with a dishbrush, but that was in the garbage and Dwalin didn't have x-ray vision.  
  
“You’re wearing _my_ shirt,” Dwalin finally growled, and for a moment Nori thought he was actually _upset_ about the shirt, but then he noticed the look in Dwalin’s eyes and that was not at all an upset look.  
  
“I take that back,” Nori said into the phone as Dwalin _stalked_ towards him, his eyes hooded and full of so many pleasant things to come in Nori's future. “I’ve not broken him, I’ve figured out something _amazing_.”

“I’m hanging up,” Ori said, and did.  
  
-

 

Quite some time later Nori slid out of bed and padded naked to the kitchen to drink the juice he’d taken out of the fridge just before Dwalin’s arrival. Glass in hand he continued to the bathroom to check on the laundry. It seemed both clean and wet enough so he dumped all of it in the dryer and hoped for the best.  
  
The last he’d seen of the shirt he’d borrowed from Dwalin it’d been more wrinkle than shirt, and there’d been a deeply suspicious stain on it. But since it was Dwalin’s fault, not to mention Dwalin’s shirt, he could clean it. And clean some other stuff while he was at it.  
  
So instead of starting another machine Nori went back to the bedroom to steal another shirt. If he wasn’t going to be doing laundry, and since Dwalin was sleeping, he might as well get some painting done, and painting naked... he’d done it once, but scrubbing paint from everywhere hadn’t really been a lot of fun.  
  
Thoughtful as he was Nori made sure to snag a shirt he knew Dwalin didn’t like that much. Just in case the paint wouldn’t come off it later. As he buttoned the third button strong arms slid around his waist.  
  
“You're wearing my shirt again,” Dwalin growled and without bothering to wait for a reply he picked Nori up and carried him off, back to bed.  
  
Hanging over Dwalin’s shoulder Nori looked contemplative at the open wardrobe. He could see five more clean shirts. This was going to be a busy afternoon.

 


	14. Fitting The Crime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was known all around Ered Luin that Nori particularly favoured small, precious golden things, and the older prince (while not small enough to be slipped into a pocket) was not a Dwarf of great height (next to his uncle and brother he looked positively tiny) and he was certainly golden and precious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fíli/Nori, asked by InsanitysxCreation and tigrislilium

Nori had been doomed from the start.  
  
It was known all around Ered Luin that Nori particularly favoured small, precious golden things, and the older prince (while not small enough to be slipped into a pocket) was not a Dwarf of great height (next to his uncle and brother he looked positively tiny) and he was certainly golden and precious.   
  
Nori’s fingers started to itch the moment he saw Fíli, that was the truth of it.  
  
However, Nori did not only have good taste, he'd also been blessed with a keen sense of self-preservation. Which was why– despite his appreciation for small, golden things – he had never seen the inside of Ered Luin’s dungeons, and it was why he started out the quest to reclaim Erebor by avoiding Fíli as much as it was possible to avoid someone when travelling together in a small company of thirteen Dwarfs one Wizard and a Hobbit.  
  
It had to be said that being on a quest with a Dragon at the end of it was not indicative of someone with a good sense of self-preservation, but Ori had been adamant about his wish to volunteer as the scribe on this suicidal adventure, so what was a brother to do when the attempts to lock his younger brother inside their home had failed?  
  
Joining him in the madness had seem like the only logical thing to do. (At least after the attempts to bribe him with new feather pens and a really fancy notebook had failed as miserably as locking him up had.)  
  
Before agreeing to go on what might very well be his last adventure, Nori had never met prince Fíli. Heard of him, yes of course. Seen him, no.  
  
Not terribly surprising as they didn’t exactly move in the same social circles. Which was probably fortunate or Nori would have been forced to abandon those circles. Itchy fingers and self-preservation do not go hand in hand.  
  
There were several _very_ good reasons to not go anywhere near Fíli. To name one: his uncle, who happened to be king, and who happened to look like the sort of person who’d happily push you into a bottomless pit if you tried to get your itchy fingers too close to his nephew.  
  
Unfortunately there was a big, Fíli-shaped reason why it seemed like a _good_ idea. And that reason kept biting a terribly plush bottom lip and sneaking Nori coy glances.  
  
Nori spent a lot of time sitting on his hands. Seemed safer that way.  
  
Because it was really, really, _really_ hard to avoid someone when they weren’t trying to avoid you. And anyone _not_ trying to avoid someone had a distinct advantage when you spent every hour of every day at most a few dozen metres away from each other.  
  
Also, each day that he tried to be good, Nori became more and more aware that he was absolutely terrible at being good. He’d often tried for Dori’s sake, but to be _good_ was to accept being boring. Life was too short to be boring.  
  
But on the other hand, life was too short to be pushed into a bottomless pit by his grumpy king.  
  
Which was why Nori snuck away from the others in Rivendell, to have a private talk to himself about poor life decisions and how _not_ to make them.  
  
He’d not gotten terribly far from the rest of the company when he realised that he was being followed.  
  
Silent as a shadow Nori slipped into an dark alcove, and when the person following him passed by it was but a moment’s work to snag their arm and push them up against the wall.  
  
It took only a moment more for Nori to realise just who he had caught.  
  
“Hello, Nori,” Fíli said and smiled up at him.  
  
Nori wondered exactly how and when he’d annoyed Mahal enough that this was to be his punishment.

“Princelings shouldn’t be out late at night running after people like me,” Nori cautioned as he released Fíli’s arms and took a step back.  
  
“I wouldn’t need to if you weren’t so astoundingly thick,” Fíli sighed. “Could you please just kiss me so we can know-“  
  
“If your uncle whould throw me into the pit or not?” Nori shook his head. “No thank you.”  
  
“What pit?” Fíli asked, a small frown creasing his brow.  
  
“Never mind.” Nori turned and took a step out of the alcove, but a strong grip on the back of his coat made him pause.  
  
“I’m only asking for one kiss, to see if we fit together.” The look in those crystal blue eyes was no longer coy. It was serious, and terrifyingly honest.

“What makes you think two people as different as us would fit?” Nori asked, because questions were good. Questions made people answer and not ask questions of their own. Or make stupid, ill-thought out requests.  
  
“Because we’re not that different,” Fíli said and the corner of his mouth quirked. “Want me to prove it to you?”  
  
“You don’t need to prove anything to me,” Nori said and shook his head. "Because we are not-"  
  
“I would respectfully disagree,” Fíli murmured. A teasing glint appeared in his eyes. “Tell me, how many blades have you hidden in your clothes?”  
  
“Fifteen,” Nori lied. The truth was closer to thirty, but having people underestimate you was always better. And Fíli had said _clothes_. Nori had five in his hair alone, but there had been no talk about hair had there.  
  
“Liar,” Fíli said and the other corner of his mouth quirked upwards. “But fair enough. Now guess how many blades are hidden in _my_ clothes.”  
  
Nori’s left eyebrow rose. “You carry hidden blades?”  
  
Fíli nodded.  
  
That seemed… unlikely. From what Nori had seen of the princeling so far he favoured the direct approach, the fair fight. Not distance and a quick hand.  
  
“Care for a wager?” Fíli asked. “Guess the number of blades and I promise to leave you alone, even if it's stupid. Guess wrongly, and you owe me that kiss. I’ll even allow you an error of margin of five.”

Nori looked searchingly into smiling blue eyes and then he leaned in to claim the kiss he’d not yet won. His idea was to show Fíli that there was no point of playing games, and to get him to stop talking about it. But most of all, he did it because he wanted to. And that was his undoing.  
  
When Nori forced himself to pull away they were both breathing hard and Nori’s hands had found their way into Fíli’s golden hair, Fíli’s clutching at Nori’s hips.  
  
“We fit,” Fíli whispered.

 _Pit_ , Nori heard. And he would admit that Thorin had a point. Fíli was young, just a little older than Ori. And he was to be king.  
  
“We don’t,” Nori denied, unclenching his hands and removing them from the soft, shiny locks of hair they’d made their home.  
  
“You’re being thick again,” Fíli sighed. Nori paid him no mind, instead turning to leave again. This time no hand came to stop him. Instead there was the sound of steel hitting stone.  
  
Nori looked back just in time to see the second blade hit the floor. It was followed by another. And another. And another.  
  
The pile grew larger.  
  
Nori’s eyes grew larger in turn. Fíli might as well be taking off his clothes, it would have prompted the same response in Nori whose fingers were now itching something fierce.  
  
“Nineteen,” Fíli finally proclaimed, as the final dagger fell; a small thing, the blade not longer than Nori's little finger. “As you didn’t even guess, you were not correct. You owe me another kiss.”  
  
Fíli had a somewhat smug - somewhat proud - smile tugging at his lips. But there was a shadow of uncertainty in his eyes that he couldn't quite conceal.

“You,” Nori breathed and took a step closer. “You like to live dangerously, don’t you little princeling?”  
  
“No more than you,” Fíli said and met Nori’s eyes with his own steady gaze.

Nori thought of the pit that Thorin doubtlessly would arrange for him.  
  
"Yes,” he admitted, and as he leaned in Fíli met him halfway.


	15. The Blanket Caterpillar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ori just wants his blanket back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *waves to MostlyTuesday*

Ori woke up shivering.  
  
Turning his head to the left revealed that next to him in the bed was either the cocoon for the largest caterpillar in existence, or a big lump by the name of Fíli who had stolen and then wrapped himself up in _all_ the blankets. The tuft of blond hair peeking out from the top seemed to suggest that the latter was the more probably explanation. Though caterpillars could have hair...  
  
The soft, very familiar snores that rumbled out from inside the blanket roll settled it. And a second look revealed that Fíli had even taken the comforter. It was amazing that the sheets were still covering the mattress.  
  
With a sigh Ori pulled at what had once been his blanket, but it wouldn’t budge. He stole a glance at the neon green numbers of the alarm clock. Not even 04.00. There was not the slightest chance that he was going to be cold for two hours if he could help it.  
  
“Hmmr, what’re you doin’?” the blanket stealing caterpillar murmured as Ori stretched himself out on top of him.  
  
“Taking revenge,” Ori muttered and wrapped his arms around Fíli’s chest. “And body heat.”  
  
“Gerroff, you’re heavy.”  
  
“No, that would be _all_ the blankets.”  
  
Incoherent mutters was offered as a reply.  
  
“You’re a miserable excuse for a bed,” Ori informed his boyfriend. “You’re lumpy.” The collection of lumps did not answer. Except to make a soft snuffling sound. “Fíli, wake _up_.”  
  
“It’s not morning,” Fíli whined as Ori managed to wriggle one corner of blanket loose. “It’s dark.”  
  
“And how would you know that since your eyes are closed?” Ori pulled on the blanket, but realised that as long as he was lying on top of Fíli nothing was going to come lose. One relocation back to the mattress later-  
  
“Oriiiii.”  
  
“I just want my blanket,” Ori told him and continued to pull.  
  
“I don’t have your blanket.”  
  
“Dori would wash your mouth for that kind of lie,” Ori informed him. “Lift your hips.”  
  
The blanket caterpillar did a half-hearted wiggle and failed miserably at lifting his hips. “It _has_ to be too early for this.”  
  
“I’m not going to freeze just because you want to smother yourself in bed linen.” Now having quite a good grip on his blanket Ori gave a mighty tug. Nothing happened. Fíli needed to go on a diet, just for the sheer principle of things. Only then he might need more blankets to keep himself warm... That would not be good. “I’m not going to let you go back to sleep until I get my blanket.”  
  
“Bloody hell,” Fíli groaned and squirmed about until an opening in the blanket shell appeared. Two strong arms reached out and Fíli’s hands lodged themselves in the threadbare T-shirt Ori was wearing, pulling him in to rest snugly against his front.  
  
Fíli’s bare chest was hot enough that Ori half-expected sizzling when his cheek smushed up against it, it was also slightly sweaty, but Ori didn’t much care as he could already feel the warmth begin to sink back into him.  
  
The next moment the blankets and comforter were pulled up around them both; up over Ori’s head and drowning out the soft noises from the kitchen clock ticking away in the background.  
  
Beneath Ori’s ear Fíli’s heart thudded along at almost the same pace as the clock he now couldn't hear.  
  
“You’re very difficult,” Fíli said, the end of the sentence drifting away in a yawn.  
  
“If I could move my arms I’d thump you for that,” Ori muttered and dug his chin into Fíli’s chest. “And I’m writing about this in my blog, don’t think I won’t.”  
  
“Mmhmm,” Fíli agreed, yawning again. His arms tightened briefly around Ori before one hand wandered down to mould itself to his left arse cheek. “Mmm.” Fíli sighed contentedly and patted it twice.  
  
Ori snorted and then relaxed into the blond’s embrace. “Weirdo,” he whispered and pressed his lips to the skin over Fíli’s heart.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do realise that this story is like utterly meaningless, but hey, blanket caterpillar, dude.


	16. Love Letters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dwalin has a secret admirer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quickly written, but hopefully sufficiently cute and cuddly.  
> Also the 4th thing I post today, woooo!

When the first note had been slipped beneath his door Dwalin had almost stepped on it as he’d walked in, halting with his boot just above it.  
  
  
  
 _‘Dearest Dwalin,  
I just wanted you to know that you are loved. So very, very loved. I wish I had the courage to tell you in person, but as I doubt that you’d feel the same, this is where things will stop.’_

 

That was all, and it hadn't been signed.

Bewildered, almost suspecting it was a joke, Dwalin nevertheless tucked the short letter away where it would be safe. Whoever had written it hadn’t asked for anything. And it was… nice, knowing that someone cared for him that much.  
  
Sure, it would have nicer to know who it was. And nicer still if it’d been a certain green eyed, dark haired toymaker. Which he was entirely sure that it wasn’t, because he’d seen Bofur’s attempts at writing, and saying that it was decipherable was being kind. But even though it wasn’t from the one he wanted, it was still... nice.  
  
Dwalin had expected things to stop there, with the confession, because that was what they’d written after all. That they just wanted him to know. But it seemed as if the first letter had nudged the gate open, and the letters kept coming.  
  
Often when he’d had a bad day, which made Dwalin suspect that the one writing them was someone who actually knew him.  
  
He didn’t tell anyone about them though, even if that might have been a good way to figure out just who the secret admirer was. He didn’t want anyone to know. Even though he didn't return the feelings the letters were still for him. Just for him.  
  
And so it went for a while.

Knowing that it couldn’t be Bofur meant that Dwalin wasn’t all that interested in figuring out who his admirer was. But apparently said admirer didn’t quite agree with that mind-set because eventually there was a letter suggesting that if there _was_ someone Dwalin loved, he should tell them.

 

 _‘I want to hope that there exists a chance for it to be me. That I would be the one you’d seek out. But even I am not the one, perhaps the one your heart has chosen will still return your feelings. I don’t see how anyone could not.’_  
  
  
  
As the letters still seemed to be delivered simply by something pushing them beneath the door, Dwalin had no way to explain why he thought that plan was a bloody stupid one. So he did nothing.  
  
Sure, he could tell Bofur how he felt, and then Bofur could get uncomfortable and Dwalin would risk losing one of the best friends he'd ever had, as well as the hope that they ever could be more.  
  
Hope. That was something he and the letter writer agreed on. Hope was important. And possibly quite stupid. But still, it was something.  
  
-  
  
A few weeks later, without there being any more letters, Dwalin had just left his quarters to go down to the dining hall when he realised he’d forgotten a book that he’d borrowed from Ori. As he would see the young scribe during dinner he turned back to collect it.

Rounding the corner he saw a very familiar three-peaked auburn head disappeared down the other end of the hallway, and; suspicions already woken,  as he unlocked his door, he found a new letter.  
  
So it was Nori.  
  
Dwalin rubbed the back of his neck. Unexpected. And not in a good way. Now he understood how Bofur would feel if he’d ever told him. With a sigh Dwalin bent to collect the letter  
  
  
  
  
 _‘Dearest Dwalin,_

_You’ve not told anyone yet. Perhaps there is simply no one who has caught your interest. And as I would obviously be included amongst that group it is clear that you don’t want me._   
  
_I’ve never asked if these letters trouble you. But, I suppose they must._

_I’m terribly sorry for bothering you. I just wanted you to know that you’re loved.’_  
  
  
  
  
Right.  
  
  
Sighing again Dwalin put the letters with the other ones and went to track Nori down.  
  
-  
  
“Nope,” Nori said, shaking his head. “I’m just the poor Dwarf suckered into handling the delivery. And no-“ he added even before Dwalin could ask. “I’ve sworn I won’t tell you who they’re from.” The red-head snickered a little. “But that was a lovely and gentle way to let me down if it had been me. Thank you.”  
  
“If you know who it is, you-“  
  
“I can’t tell you,” Nori said. “I promised. But-“ he tilted his head. “I guess I can tell you who it isn’t.”

-  
  
Who it wasn’t turned out to be a very long list.  
  
But a list that Dwalin couldn’t help but notice Bofur wasn’t included on. So it could be Bofur. Even though it couldn’t be Bofur.  
  
Unless... unless he’d gotten someone to write the letters for him.  
  
-  
  
“I don’t know anything about any letters,” Ori lied, and lied badly, and Dwalin’s heart cautiously started to hope again.  
  
-  
  
During the months this had all been going on, Bofur hadn’t done anything out of the ordinary. He’d been his normal, cheerful self, always appearing to be happy to see Dwalin, or pretty much anyone else for that matter.  
  
Dwalin hadn’t noticed ever noticed any change in how Bofur acted with him, and it made him cautious.  
  
What if it wasn’t Bofur?   
  
What if he just wanted it to be Bofur?  
  
Nori hadn’t mentioned _every_ Dwarf in the mountain, and just because the letters had appeared to come when he'd needed some cheering up did it mean that the person writing them _had_ to know him.  
  
Dwalin knew very well that his foul moods tended to be a bit obvious, Bofur had teased him more than once telling him that he might as well be carrying around a sign with the rune for danger on it.  
  
What if it wasn’t Bofur, and Dwalin told him, and everything was ruined?  
  
For a few moments Dwalin considered beginning to sneak his own anonymous letters beneath Bofur’s door, but quickly discarded the idea.  
  
Instead he took a deep breath, and knocked on the door to Bofur’s quarters.  
  
“Have you been sending me letters?” he asked as soon as the door was opened.  
  
Bofur blinked up at him in confusion, and then his cheeks flushed, and he looked down at his boots.  
  
“Took you a while,” he said and shrugged awkwardly. There was the pale imitation of one of his usual hearty chuckles. “I’m sorry, I-“  
  
“I love you,” Dwalin blurted, and everything seemed to freeze.  
  
The two of them looked at each other, Bofur with round eyes and a mouth half-open either in surprise or simply because he’d been interrupted mid-word. Dwalin with burning ears and cheeks.  
  
“I just, wanted you to know,” Dwalin finished, scuffing his boot against the floor.  
  
“That’s my line,” Bofur said dazedly. “Dwalin?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“Pinch me and then kiss me, thank you kindly. Or the other way around. Whatever's easier for you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And then much kissing happens and they live happily ever after and yay!
> 
> lol, to be entirely honest, this is being posted because I for some reason had stuffed this plot bunny into a separate word .doc and my brain seemed to think that writing it was the easier way of dealing with it compared to copy/pasting it into the right collective word .doc I have for this type of story.
> 
> (I'm a bit peculiar about my files, as you might have been able to gather from the above. I don't like stuff not being in their proper places. )


	17. Pining for the (fjords) prince.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ori is definitely not a dead parrot, but he's pretty good at pining even so.  
> And there are actually not any parrots, dead or otherwise in the story, I'm just bad at titles, and good at convincing myself that my bad titles might as well influence my summaries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Monday.  
> Well, not for everyone I guess. But then it's just been Monday.
> 
> And the thing with Mondays is that there will always be more Mondays.  
> Which means that there's always the perfect time for a small, cute and cuddly story.
> 
> Clichés ahoy! (but indeed, no parrots)

Ori had definitely not expected it. Because if it was going to happen, shouldn’t it have happened already on the road to Erebor? So many things had happened as they’d journeyed east, and a simple scribe falling in love with Prince Kíli would not have been the strangest thing by far.  
  
But it didn’t happen. Instead the scribe had somehow managed to befriend the prince, and Prince Kíli ended up as just Kíli.  
  
It was not until almost a year later that Ori realised that the strange, tight feeling inside his chest; something that had plagued him for the last month or so, that feeling _always_ coincided with Kíli’s presence, and was quite possibly a sign of something _far_ more upsetting than merely an upset stomach.  
  
To Ori’s defence he spent a lot of time with Kíli; usually hours out of each day, and even though that might at first sound like a good reason as for why he should have figured it out _quicker_ , the very regular appearance of that strange feeling was exactly what made him think that it was something about his meals that did not sit well with his insides.  
  
He’d even told Kíli about it, and Kíli had been his normal enthusiastic self in trying to help him figure out just exactly it was about their food that worried Ori’s stomach.  
  
But it hadn’t been gas, it had been love.

 _That_ , Ori thought morosely. _That never happened in the stories of old._ In those stories, people just _knew_. In the stories the hero looked at the one they were meant for, their love looked back, and they immediately knew that they wanted to spend the rest of their lives together.  
  
The hero did not even begin to consider that perhaps their older brother had been right about the need to eat green foods after all.  
  
That Dori hadn’t been right was only a small comfort. Because being in love with Kíli… that could ruin everything. Kíli was Ori’s best friend, and Kíli…Kíli had never mentioned that looking at Ori made him feel like a small restless animal had decided to nest inside his chest. An animal with both ridiculously soft fur and with very sharp claws.  
-  
  
Even though Ori didn't say anything, Kíli did figure out that something was wrong. But while Ori had feared it would lead to having to answer countless of probing questions, being dragged to the nearest tavern and plied with ale while having to suffer through Kíli sitting much too close but not close enough, and possibly having to resist those warm beautiful brown eyes looking at him earnestly and asking him what was _wrong_ , none of that happened.  
  
What happened was that Kíli started to avoid him.  
  
Ori _had_ started it, trying to drag out the inevitable end of their friendship, but he was still hurt when Kíli returned the favour. Yes, he knew it didn’t make much sense, but if things had made sense he wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place.  
  
Still, it was this avoidance that gave Ori the courage he needed to actually do something about his feelings. If he was going to lose Kíli’s friendship anyway, he might as well lose it by doing _something_ , instead of by doing nothing.  
  
-  
  
“Kíli, could we, um, talk?”  
  
At first Kíli didn’t answer, and Ori forced himself not to apologise and make a run for it.  
  
“All right,” Kíli said eventually, turning to look at Ori, his arms folded across his chest. “Okay. I’m- just tell me.”  
  
“Tell you?” Ori nervously licked his lips. Did Kíli know already? Was that why…  
  
“Tell me what I did wrong.”  
  
“Did… wrong?”  
  
“What did I do?” Kíli asked, bracing himself as if expecting a punch. “Why did you- what did I do to make you unable to even look at me anymore. Your face- every time you did, you looked _miserable_.” Kíli shook his head and his upper lip curled. “You look miserable now.”  
  
Ori’s stomach lurched in a new and terribly unpleasant way. “No, that’s not- Kíli, why-“  
  
“I can fix it,” Kíli said, taking a step forward, into Ori’s personal space. “If you’d let me? I thought giving you some space would make it better, but- I don’t think it worked?”  
  
“There’s- Kíli’s there’s nothing you can do,” Ori tried to explain, because it wasn't Kíli's _fault_ , and he only realised what those words must have sounded like to his friend after Kíli flinched and looked down at his boots. “No-" Ori protested. "That’s not-“  
  
“Whatever I did, I’m sorry,” Kíli mumbled, broad shoulders slumped in a dejected line, voice listless, and everything was so incredibly wrong that Ori didn’t even know what to do with himself.  
  
“I’m in love with you.”  
  
Closing his eyes, Ori waited for whatever Kíli’s response would be. Then, remembering that he’d been prepared to face down a Dragon, Ori opened his eyes, ready to meet the end of the best friendship he’d ever had with his head held high, even though he wanted to curl up into a tight little ball of shame.  
  
The silent continued for an Age, and as Kíli’s mouth finally opened with his reply, Ori sucked in a breath and squared his shoulders.  
  
“What?” Was all Kíli said.  
  
Was he _really_ going to have to say it again? Ori swallowed. “I’m, I’m in love with you.”  
  
As Kíli suddenly swayed towards him Ori flinched but again managed to stop himself from running.

“I thought- How- When-“  
  
“I’m sorry,” Ori said with a small voice. "I-"  
  
“I’m _not_ ,” Kíli breathed, and then a big warm hand cupped Ori’s jaw, and then Kíli _kissed_ him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Silly boys.


	18. Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a tiny short one, because I wanted to cheer myself up after a family member was/is being a moron.  
> (no worries, I'm sorta on the sidelines of the actual issue, but still, he's a moron)
> 
> Not tagging this as canon or au because I think it could squeeze itself into both.

It was entirely too hot and Thorin pushed blindly at his blankets, his eyes closed in denial over the dawning day.

As soon as he succeeded at freeing himself cool air rushed to press itself against his skin, and he grunted and stretched. There was no hurry, he could stay in bed a little whi-  
  
He froze as his fingers touched something soft, much softer than the sheets on his bed. And just like that Thorin was wide awake and his eyes snapped open to take in the sight of a sleeping Bilbo Baggins next to him, Thorin’s hand brushing up against messy curls.  
  
They’d made love the night before, not for the first time, but it was the first time they got to wake up together like this. Except, perhaps not together as Thorin was the only one actually awake.  
  
Bilbo’s mouth was open slightly and small purring snores escaped every so often and behind his eyelids his eyes flickered rapidly back and forth.  
  
As Thorin ran his fingers through a few of the curls that tried to escape the pillow the snores changed a little in pitch and then they stopped, and Thorin held his breath, not sure if he was sorry he’d disturbed his lover or if he was happy at the prospect.  
  
He’d never gotten to just lie like this and watch Bilbo wake up.  
  
Thorin didn’t know if he’d scrunch up his nose, try and burrow down into the pillow, or claim all the blankets and refuse to surface for a few more hours. (Because yes, Thorin knew enough to know that Bilbo was not a morning person.)  
  
Eyelids rose slowly and just enough that Thorin caught a glimpse of bleary hazel. Then he suddenly had his arms full of mostly sleeping Bilbo who apparently was capable of rapid movements even when not fully awake. Good to know for future reference.  
  
“…early…” Was the vaguely resentful statement which was breathed into Thorin’s neck.  
  
“Go back to sleep,” Thorin murmured, stroking his hand down his lover’s back.  
  
“..mmm..” Came the reply and Thorin smiled and pressed his lips to Bilbo’s forehead.  
  
Perhaps he would be so fortunate to see several awakenings in the same morning?


	19. MORE BUNNIES

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Syxx  
> Follow up to Chapter 2 in this collection.

“Thorin, there's not actually any space for you in my shirt. And I can’t hold you and stay on the pony at the same time. You need to ride with someone else.”

The look Bilbo received was very familiar. It just usually didn’t belong to a rabbit, but it didn’t much matter in the grand scheme of things.  
  
Bilbo had only been back to his Hobbit-shaped self for about an hour when Thorin disappeared.   
  
Or as it turned out: when he was somehow transformed into a rabbit. A fairly big rabbit to be sure, but a much smaller rabbit than he’d been a Dwarf.

There’d been a tense couple of moments before a dark pair of ears plopped up from Thorin’s seemingly empty armour, followed by a furry head and a pink nose twitching with barely contained emotion.  
  
No one doubted it was Thorin even for a second; the disgruntled expression on the rabbit’s face was very familiar indeed, as were the bright blue eyes.  
  
The disgruntled expression turned outright mutinous when Gandalf casually pointed out that Rivendell was rather close by, and if members of the Company would continue to turn into rabbits then perhaps it would be wise to seek a safe haven there for the time being?  
  
And of course Thorin didn’t like the idea more when Gandalf also reminded him that there was a map they could use some help with.  
  
Gandalf either didn’t see that Thorin was planning to be the first rabbit ever to murder a Wizard, or he didn’t care.  
  
“That’s settled then, my dear boy,” was all he said. “Off to Rivendell we go.”

When Thorin growled and took a hop towards Gandalf, Bilbo hurriedly bent down to collect him.   
  
He’d expected Thorin to struggle, possibly even to be bitten or clawed (and he vaguely remembered his own abilities to just run away from anyone trying to catch him) but Thorin did neither of these things.

As Bilbo first touched him the rabbit’s head snapped around to give him a look that promised all sorts of unpleasant things, but no sooner had Bilbo scooped him up (Thorin was a surprisingly heavy rabbit) before he sort of… melted against him. And then the strange sounds started.  
  
“Um, what is he doing?” Bilbo asked, looking between Gandalf and the Dwarfs and back at Thorin who seemed to be making some sort of soft chattering sound as he snuggled closer to Bilbo’s chest. “I didn’t do this, I don’t think I did at least.”  
  
“I believe he is feeling happy,” Gandalf said, grey eyes crinkled with amusement. As he began to speak Thorin quieted, and he turned his head to glare at the Wizard.  
  
“Right,” Bilbo said. “Good to know.”  
  
Thorin sighed and turned his head back to rub his cheek against Bilbo’s shirt.  
  
-  
  
“I’m serious, Thorin,” Bilbo said as he tried to get Thorin to release his shirt. “You can’t go on the pony with me.”  
  
“If you hold him I’ll hold you.”  
  
“I’m sorry?” Bilbo turned to Dwalin. “What?”  
  
The large Dwarf huffed. “You can ride in front of me, I’ll hold on to you, you’ll hold on to him.”  
  
Thorin grunted in quiet approval and burrowed even closer to Bilbo.

-  
  
“How much do you remember?” Dwalin asked once they were all settled on top of the ponies again, Thorin held securely in place in front of Bilbo, and Bilbo held securely in place in front of Dwalin. Their pace weren’t very fast, but Gandalf still believed they’d get to Rivendell before sunset.  
  
“Pardon?”  
  
“Of being a rabbit, how much do you remember about it?”  
  
“Bits and pieces,” Bilbo admitted. “I don’t- I wasn’t exactly myself. I remember being scared when you all started chasing me. I didn’t entirely understand that you wouldn’t hurt me.”  
  
Thorin made an offended noise.  
  
“I said I didn’t understand,” Bilbo pointed out as he ran his fingers over a silky ear. “I liked sitting in your shirt. I mean-“  
  
Dwalin snorted. “Lucky you didn’t turn back while you were still in his shirt.”  
  
“Yes, quite,” Bilbo agreed.   
  
When Bilbo stopped stroking him Thorin grunted in objection.

-

Bilbo was rather impressed by Lord Elrond’s ability to accept the Dwarf turned rabbit as something normal. He didn’t even blink when Gandalf explained it. Nor did Thorin’s surly expression seem to bother him.  
  
Lord Elrond’s steward on the other hand looked somewhat pained by the entire concept. Especially when his Lord mentioned that Thorin had the bearing of his Grandfather, which to be fair; unless Thorin’s Grandfather had also been turned into a rabbit, had to be somewhat of an exaggeration.   
  
-  
  
“No, no, no,” Bilbo said when he discovered the rabbit hopping after him down the hallway. “I’m not looking to have company tonight. I don’t even know when I’ll have an actual bed to myself again, so I’m not going to share it with a rabbit.”  
  
He supposed Thorin was trying to pay him back for any trouble caused by Bilbo's own transformation into a rabbit, but he’d have none of it!  
  
-  
  
Two Elves of Rivendell were a little taken aback when a Hobbit sprinted past them in the hallway as if he was being chased by wolves, instead of the large black rabbit hot on his heels.  
  
-

“You’re very annoying,” Bilbo told Thorin even as he allowed the rabbit to make himself at home next to him on the bed.  
  
The King-turned-rabbit did not reply except for that same strange noise from before starting back up again.  
  
-  
  
When Bilbo woke up the next morning he found he was lying on something soft and comfortable. He was warm and cosy and there were absolutely no rocks beneath him. No one was snoring, it wasn’t raining, and as no part of him were itching it would appear that no ants had decided to try and carry him off during the night.  
  
Making a small content sigh Bilbo rolled onto his side and opened his eyes.   
  
Then he opened his eyes wider, eyebrows travelling up towards his hairline.   
  
Thorin was sleeping on the bed next to him, back to his normal self.   
  
Only… he was _very_ naked.  
  
Bilbo swallowed nervously and tried to make himself stop looking.  
  
It wasn’t very effective so he decided to quietly sneak away before Thorin woke up.   
  
Getting out of bed was easy enough, Thorin didn’t even stir, but as soon as Bilbo opened the door out to the hallway two rabbits bounced inside, grunting happily up at him.  
  
One was golden coloured and the other a dark brown. And they looked _very_ familiar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked this (and Chapter 2) I've written a much longer story about bunnies, find it here:  
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/2731103/chapters/6119186
> 
> Also, Thorin is really totes like this bunny:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BWkmEhNYVF0


	20. Meeting the Parents

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to remind myself that I'm not doing Disney films lol  
> Characters can have parents who are still around.

"Mum, we talked about this...." Thorin pinched the bridge of his nose and reminded himself that if Bilbo hadn’t run away screaming already it was unlikely he’d do so now.

"But you'll always be my little strawberry, my darling."  
  
At the moment it was Bilbo who looked the most like a strawberry, his cheeks gone red from barely held-back laughter.  
  
He was unfairly gorgeous, and it irked Thorin, because he wanted to be _annoyed_ , and not in the mood to kiss the smirk right of his lover’s face. You couldn’t do that sort of thing when your mother was in the room with you. And for your own mental health it was best if you didn’t even want to do it.  
  
“Has he told you the story?”  
  
Bilbo managed a head-shake, and a noise that sounded vaguely inquiring.  
  
Feris smiled and Thorin hid a sigh. And to think that _Bilbo_ had been worried at the prospect of meeting his parents. It was as if he didn't understand that everyone who met him couldn't help but to like him. Thorin hadn't had any intention at all to like him but... here they were. Meeting his parents.  
  
“Thorin really loved strawberries as a child. If he could have had them for breakfast, lunch and dinner _and_ snacks he’d been a very happy boy.”  
  
“Mum, Bilbo isn’t really interested in-“  
  
“Shush, darling. One day, I think he was… four. Thráin! Thráin, how old was Thorin when he disappeared that time?”  
  
“Five!” came the reply from the living room. Thorin wasn’t sure if his father was avoiding them or if he really just wanted to see the football game, but considering the amount of cursing that could be heard from time to time he was at least.. enjoying himself.  
  
“I think he was four,” Feris said and frowned for a moment before she smiled at Bilbo again. “But it’s not terribly important. So, one moment he was in the living room, and the next he was gone, and we couldn’t find him anywhere. Your father and I were very worried,” she added to Thorin, who couldn’t help but feel a little guilty. Over something that happened close to thirty years ago. That was the power of mothers for you.  
  
“I take it you found him eventually,” Bilbo said, hazel eyes bright with mirth.  
  
“Oh yes, dear. He was outside in the garden, sitting in the strawberry patch munching on the strawberries like a little thrush. Only unlike the thrushes he’d been able to get inside the net we’d covering the strawberries, and he was busy eating all of them.”  
  
The look in his mother’s eyes softened. “He was adorable. Not a care in the world. He had no idea that his father and I had had been worried sick. We couldn’t even yell at him, he was so happy.”  
  
“So you started calling him ‘Strawberry’?” Bilbo’s lips twitched.  
  
“We did,” Feris agreed, patting Bilbo on the arm. “Though when he got older he started blushing when I called him that, so I didn’t do it as much. Even though it was very apt still. But I’m sure you know what Thorin looks like when he blushes, dear.”  
  
“What?” Thorin said when Bilbo turned to look at him, the beginnings of a question clearly visible on his face; hiding in the slight squint of his eyes and the small furrow on his brow. But Bilbo did know what Thorin looked like when he blushed, much to Thorin's dismay.  
  
“Will you break up with me if I ask for baby pictures?”  
  
“They’re in here!” his father yelled. “These broccolis can’t play worth a discus anyway.”  
  
“Broccoli?” Bilbo blinked. "Discus?"  
  
“Thorin’s sister has toddlers,” Feris said and snickered. “We’re trying not to curse so much. Hence, broccoli, and well, discus. Thráin is better at it than I am."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (should I do when Thorin meets Belladonna and Bungo too?)


	21. Charity Auction (Bilbo/Thorin, Dís!POV)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _You are invited to the Erebor Inc. Charity Auction.  
>  Bid on over 200 once in a lifetime experiences. Everything from ponyriding to cooking lessons to dates with some of the most eligible bachelors and bachelorettes in the country.  
> All proceeds generated will go to charity. You will find more details in... _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A small ficlet :)

"For fucks sake, just smile and nod and agree with them. Tell them they look pretty."

"What if they're ugly."

"Then you'll _lie_."

When Thorin's stubborn expression morphed into something even more stubborn Dís huffed.

"We need some good publicity after the thing with Smaug. You know we do."

"Yes, but-"

"And a charity auction is a great opportunity for that."

"Then why aren't you and Frerin also partaking in this nonsense?"

"Because, brother dear-" Dis held up her left hand, wriggling her fingers. "Both of us are married. As in not single. As in not eligible for dates. As in-"

"Please stop."

"You on the other hand are on the top ten attractive bachelors lists every year. And the most eligible, richest, grumpiest..."

Thorin crossed his arms over his chest and Dís mirrored him.

"Point is that people will pay for a date with you. Publicity. Good will. Money to charity. You actually interacting with human beings who doesn't work for you. A date with someone you might actually like."

Thorin snorted. "I doubt that."

-

Despite her brother looking like he was sitting on a cactus during his presentation he did end up going for a good price, and wasn't that a weird thing to think.

Shaking her head Dís made her way through the crowd, wanting to catch Thorin before he left with the person who'd won him.

Best remind him that he better play nice or any goood publicity earned by this gala would immediately drown in headlines about his rudeness.

It was a short, rather attractive, curly haired man who'd won Thorin and he'd managed to find him before Dís could.

"-and of course you don't need to go on this date if you'd rather not. I mean, I'd honour the bid regardless, but I'd feel really bad if-"

Dís hid a sighed. So her brother would get a free card out of being social to anyone not in their family, just typi-

"Out of the question," Thorin said, and why oh why did he always have to sound so annoyed.

Only... Curly didn't seem to mind judging by the brilliant grin he gave her brother and- Dís blinked. Thorin smiled back. A small smile, sure, but it was definitely a smile.

At that point she realised that Thorin's word has actually been a _denial_ of the suggestion to not have the date.

"Shall we then?" Curly suggested and Thorin nodded and gestured for him to go first.

As Curly passed him Thorin reached out put his hand on the small of the other man's back keeping it there as he fell into step by the smaller man's side.

Oh.

OH.

Well. That was interesting.

Either Thorin had miraculously turned into a great liar, or Thorin might not need to lie at all when telling his date that he looked pretty.

Dís hid a giggle in a cough. Hopefully this wouldn't be the first and last time Curly made an appearance in their lives. 


	22. Meeting the family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin's turn to meet the fam  
> Sorta-sequel to the one where Bilbo met Thorin's parents.

”They just showed up,” Belladonna said, looking a little guilty. ”

"And you’ve forgotten the words, _please go away_?” Bilbo hissed.

"Bilbo?" came Thorin's voice from the living room. He sounded a little like Bilbo expecting him to sound if he'd suddenly found himself in the middle of a lake, surrounded by fish that just might be piranhas.

"Coming!" Bilbo called back, moving to get the large tea tray but his mother was quicker.

"I'll get it dear, you go ahead." She lowered her voice. "Lobelia is here."

"Oh dear lord.." Bilbo murmured as he scurried out of the kitchen. He should not have allowed his father to bring Thorin into the living room alone.

-

Thorin looked very out of place where he sat next to Bilbo's father, surrounded by Bilbo's relatives. Relatives mostly from his mother's side of the family. This was a very important distinction.

His mother must have told someone about Thorin's visit, and then they told someone else and then everyone knew about it. But the only ones from the Baggins' side of the family who'd showed up were Otho and Lobelia. Somehow Bilbo wasn't surprised.

Thorin was a head taller than everyone in the room, about twice as broad over the shoulder as anyone else, and the only one with a beard. It was a little like putting a wolf in a group of poodles. But Thorin still looked like he was the one who needed saving.

"Bilbo!" Adamanta called as soon as Bilbo stepped through the doorway. "You've found a pretty one."

His grandmother and grandfather were sitting to Thorin's right, and Bilbo told himself that he had to be polite to his granny. He _had_ to.

"Not much of a talker though," Gerontius remarked.

"I'm sure he's overwhelmed by your attention, please go away."

Saying 'please' was polite.

Bungo shot him a sympathetic look as he got up from the couch, and Bilbo had a sudden realisation that when his father was first introduced to Belladonna's family it was most likely in a similar situation.

"I'll go get the tea," he said, patting Bilbo on the shoulder. "Go sit down."

The 'before someone else does' was very much audible to Bilbo and hurried to comply, leaning against Thorin's side and taking his hand, hoping to provide some sort of support in this trying time.

"Your grandmother was just asking me-" Thorin trailed off and Bilbo looked concernedly at him.

"Great-grandchildren," Adamanta said and grinned, and entirely too many heads around the room nodded in agreement. "Babies. When are they coming?"

"Grandmother," Bilbo sputtered. "It's a little soon to think about that."

"Well, you're not married but that's a little old-fashioned to expect that of young people these days anyway."

-

Half a century later Bilbo got the last curious but hopefully well-meaning relatives out the door, and if Lobelia's pockets looked to be a little lump he didn't mention it. His mum deserved any missing spoons as he was entirely sure that this ordeal had been her fault.

"I'm so sorry," he apologised as he walked back into the living room. "This was not part of the plan."

"He did just fine," Belladonna said and patted Thorin on the knee. "Good job, sweetheart. And I didn't say before, but very nice to meet you."

Bungo cleared his throat. "So, about those grandchildren?"

"Dad, _no_ ," Bilbo said and sat down next to Thorin.

"It would be nice, that's all I'm saying," the older Baggins muttered.

"I demand to see embarrassing baby photos of Bilbo," Thorin told the ceiling. "And to hear at least three stories of weird but adorable things he's done. Did you call him something like 'pebble' at any point?"

"Pebble?" Belladonna echoed.

"Thorin's parents called him straw-"

"At least _four_ stories," Thorin amended and tugged on one of Bilbo's curls.


	23. Coffee Shop AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> lol, guess what this is about based on the title

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by: White_Rabbits_Clock

It was a bit silly to own a coffee shop and still go across the street on his break, but while Bilbo was very proud of Bag End (he’d thought of the idea to have a combined bookstore and café long before they started popping up all over the country, thank you very much) his own offering of pastries paled in comparisons to the delicious treats found at Oakenshield's.  
  
Such wonderful things as cream puffs, crumbly biscuits and the most delicious cherry pie Bilbo had ever tasted didn't go very well together with reading, not unless he wanted to have a pile of damaged books at the end of each day. Though the cherry stains might be worth it…

There were only two problems with Oakenshield's. Or three perhaps.  
  
The owner wasn't the most sociable person in the world. But he was very nice to look at, so Bilbo had stopped trying to make small talk and instead just settled for greetings and goodbyes.   
  
He wasn’t sure if the good looking part was a problem or not. It was possible that he was a little _too_ nice to look at. The matter clearly required further investigation. More observation. And more pie.

The third, or possibly second, problem was the most important one, and it was that Oakenshield’s coffee wasn't very good. No, that was a little unfair. It's was good _enough_. But Bilbo's own coffee was better. However he felt that it would be very rude to bring his own.

He could of course have ordered tea, or juice, or a soft drink, but… well, he liked coffee. Even bad coffee was good coffee. Unless it was really bad coffee. Like instant. Or Smaugbucks.  
  
Bilbo shuddered. Absolutely horrid.

“Something wrong with the coffee?” a toe-curling voice asked.

A polite denial was on the tip of Bilbo’s tongue as he looked up into crystal blue eyes, and then he got a little distracted.  
  
“You over roast your beans.”  
  
“What?”  
  
Oh dear. Well, in for a penny, in for a pound. “The beans are being roasted at a too high temperature. There’s a slightly bitter and burnt aftertaste. If you just-“  
  
“Bitter? _Burnt_? There is nothing wrong with my coffee.” Oakenshield’s owner was _very_ nice to look at. Had Bilbo already mentioned this? Even when grumpy he was handsome. Perhaps even more handsome than when he wasn’t. Though Bilbo hadn’t ever seen him smile, so it was possible- “Don’t think you can just walk in here and think you can teach me to do my job. Your café is not any better than-“  
  
“No,” Bilbo said and blinked. “No, no, that’s not what I’m saying. I love this place.”  
  
“Oh.”     
  
For a moment they just stared at each other. “The beans _are_ burnt though,” Bilbo added and put his hand out. “Hi, I’m Bilbo Baggins.”  
  
“I know who you are.”  
  
“Well, I’m afraid my spies are not as talented,” Bilbo said and wriggled his fingers a little. “Unless you’re actually Mister Oakenshield?”  
  
“Durin,” Mister Handsome-now-known-as-Durin said and took Bilbo’s hand. “Thorin Durin.”  
  
“I love your cherry pie,” Bilbo found himself saying.  
  
“Thank you, Mister Baggins.”  
  
“Please, call me Bilbo.”  
  
“Thorin,” Thorin said and nodded, and the corner of Bilbo’s mouth twitched.  
  
“No, _Bilbo_.”  
  
A dark eyebrow was raised. “Don’t make me take the cherry pie off the menu.”  
  
Bilbo would later deny gasping. “Don’t even joke about that.”  
  
Thorin was silent for a few moments, and Bilbo didn’t at all take the that time to blatantly look him over. Subtly, on the other hand…  
  
“You work at Bag End.”  
  
“I own Bag End,” Bilbo shrugged.   
  
“You like the pie.”  
  
“I love the pie.”  
  
“You think we burn our coffee beans.”  
  
“Only a _little_.”  
  
“You wanna go for dinner with my uncle?!”  
  
Bilbo looked over to the cash register as that was where the shout had originated. A tall, dark-haired young man stood behind the desk and when he saw he had Bilbo’s attention he grinned at him and waved, and then pointed to Thorin. “That’d be him.”  
  
“Kíli,” Thorin growled.  
  
“I would,” Bilbo said quickly.  
  
When Thorin looked down at him Bilbo gnawed nervously on his bottom lip. “If it’s fine for you of course. Consent is an important part of dating. Vital, I should say.”   
  
“He’ll pick you up at eight!”  
  
“Kíli…” Thorin sighed and shook his head and Bilbo hid a sigh of his own. “Friday then.”  
  
“I’m sorry?”  
  
“Friday, for our date.”  
  
“Oh! Yes, of course.” The smile on Bilbo’s face might have been a little silly.  
  
The smile on Bilbo’s face five minutes later when he got another piece of pie, courtesy of the house, might have been a lot silly.  
  
The smile on Bilbo's face when Thorin stopped by with a refill of his coffee and gave him a small, barely there, smile as he left, now that made Bilbo feel all sorts of silly in all the best ways.  
  
The beans used for his refill was still burnt though. But that was all right.


	24. At Last

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [insert lyrics to At Last by Ella Fitzgerald]  
> (fix-it fic)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tiny, but I think it's just enough

When Thorin Oakenshield shows up outside a round green door in the equally green - but not as round – Shire and knocks, and Bilbo Baggins opens said door to find him there, the Hobbit does the only reasonable thing and slams the door shut.   
  
"I thought tea was served at five." The voice is muffled, but so unmistakably _Thorin_.  
  
"I said four. And now it’s _seven_!" Bilbo shouts at the closed door, taking a few steps away from the impossibility on the other side of it. "You're late. And so help me if you say you got _lost_ -"  
  
The rest of the sentence is in fact lost, disappearing in a half-choked sob and at the same time Bilbo's knees make the suggestion that he would be much happier sitting on the floor.   
  
So that's how Thorin finds him when he quietly opens the door and steps inside Bag End.  
  
"Bilbo,” he says, kneeling down in front of the Hobbit, _his_ Hobbit.  
  
"If you're not real I'm going to hate you forever," Bilbo informs him, glaring up at Thorin through tears which he rapidly tries to blink away.  
  
"I'm real. And if I wasn’t it would be rather unfair to hate me for something I couldn't-"  
  
And now it’s Thorin’s words that are lost, swallowed in the kiss that Bilbo presses to his lips as he throws unsteady arms around Thorin’s neck and clings.  
  
“You’re here,” Bilbo whispers, not quite daring to believe it.  
  
“Yes,” Thorin says, brushing away a few slightly too long curls from Bilbo’s forehead. “May I stay?”  
  
“Of course you- you-“ And there Bilbo gives up at such things as words and language and tugs on the braid he’s wrapped his fingers around, _hard_ , and then kisses Thorin again and again and again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ssssh, don't question it.
> 
> (And Fíli and Kíli are naturally okay too)


	25. Hairdresser AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Look at chapter title *nods*

Thorin had never in his life wanted short hair, or planned on getting his hair cut short. Not that he wanted long hair for any particular reason, but he simply liked it better that way. Even as a young child he’d argued that if Dís was allowed to have long hair then he was surely allowed to have long hair since he was _older_.   
  
Childish arguments aside, his desire to have hair which was only rarely touched by sharp things got a little mixed up with a desire for something else entirely when his (literally) old hairdresser retired and Thorin realised that his new hairdresser was unfairly attractive with his bouncy curls and round cheeks and big hazel eyes and many other lovely bits to look at surreptitiously in a mirror.  
  
Gandalf had been a very competent hairdresser, Thorin had no complaints; aside from the somewhat strange conversations they usually ended up with, but he'd not really had any urge to see him more often than necessary, which had been with standard 6-8 weeks interval.  
  
But now...   
  
A little morosely Thorin stared at his reflection in the mirror. His hair just barely touched his shoulders. And his beard was shorter than it’d been in years. And he had a new appointment the next morning, even though it'd only been 4 weeks since his last.  
  
And those four weeks had felt like half an eternity. Even though Thorin had stopped by to buy a new shampoo. Which he didn't actually need. And a hairbrush, which he also didn’t need.  
  
One thing was for sure, Dís could _never_ find out about this or she'd not stop laughing until she died. And maybe not even then.  
  
-  
  
"A trim, please," Thorin said as he sat down in the chair, biting back a sigh. “Hair and beard, please.”  
  
He’d quickly figured out that being polite got him pleased little smiles in turn, only…  
  
In the mirror Bilbo Baggins’ reflection didn’t smile at him like it usually did, instead a small frown had settled between his eyebrows.  
  
"Um, please feel free to tell me to mind my own business. But if you want short hair it's better if we just do it all at once." Bilbo slid his fingers into Thorin’s hair and Thorin tried to hide a pleased shiver as best as he could.   
  
“A fringe,” Bilbo continued as he collected Thorin’s hair into a (sadly) undersized pony tail. “And shorter at the neck. Very manly, of course.”  
  
“I don’t want shorter hair,” Thorin said as he observed Bilbo in the mirror, taking advantage of the other man’s distraction to observe as much as he could of plush, pink lips and-  
  
“I’m afraid I don’t know how to cut it longer,” came the somewhat dry reply, but Thorin was a little bit preoccupied by the hand now patting his shoulder to really pay attention. “Really now, plenty of people are… hesitant, about changing the way they look. If you want to do it half an inch at the time that’s of course fine, but it’s going to be awfully expensive for you compared to-.”  
  
“Money is not a problem.”  
  
Damn, that sounded like he wanted to have short hair after all.  
  
“I mean, I don’t want to have short hair, but I can pay for it.”  
  
Fucking hell, that was even worse.  
  
Dís could never, ever know.  
  
“If you don’t want shorter hair why do you insist on getting your hair cut every month?” Bilbo shook his head. “You’ve lovely hair, but it doesn’t grow fast enough to get it cut that frequently.”

“I-“ Thorin paused, trying to think of something to say. Instead his brain decided to have a quick discussion with itself about the different levels of pathetic that he’d already reached, and the ones that were sure to come unless he decided to do something radical.  
  
But before he’d managed to figure out what that _something_ should be Bilbo patted his shoulder again and released his grip on Thorin’s hair, combing his fingers through it to make it hang a little bit neater.  
  
“I’m sorry, it’s none of my business.”  
  
“Strictly speaking I think my hair _is_ your business,” Thorin said, forcing himself not to press his head into the touch.   
  
Bilbo snorted. “Good point. Want my professional advice then?”  
  
“Sure,” Thorin said, a little bit cautiously. Regardless of how attractive Bilbo was Thorin would not agree to any colour or bleach. He wouldn’t. Even if it meant that he _had_ to spend hours with Bilbo’s hands in his hair and would need to come back more often to-  
  
On second thought perhaps blonds had more fun after all.  
  
“Don’t make me cut your hair today. Or beard. Let it grow a little. Or a lot, if you’d like.”  
  
And that put a very sudden stop to Thorin’s musings.  
  
“But-“ Then I won’t get to see you. Thorin bit the inside of his cheek before the rest of that sentence actually made it out of his mouth.  
  
“You don’t really need a trim,” Bilbo said and ran a hand through Thorin’s hair before gently touching his fingers to the side of Thorin’s face. “And if you don’t want shorter hair I don’t think you’ve really any reason to be here. Unless you want to give me money just to make you _less_ happy with your hair than you were when you came in.”  
  
Thorin didn’t really hear any of that. He was entirely too busy feeling the small, warm fingers that stroked and petted along his jawline.  
  
When Bilbo’s eyes widened and he snatched his hand away Thorin missed them immediately.  
  
“Oh, I’m sorry, that was horribly inappropriate of me,” Bilbo apologised as he bit down on his bottom lip.  
  
“I- didn’t mind.”  
  
And there it was. Something radical. But likely with the same potential to make him look ridiculous as dying his hair blond would have had. Though perhaps not.  
  
“You- didn’t mind?”  
  
Thorin shook his head and for a long moment they just looked at each other in the mirror. Then Bilbo took a step back and this time Thorin couldn’t hold back the sigh.  
  
Only… Bilbo didn’t go very far. Instead he pulled on Thorin’s chair until it had turned 180 degrees and they were actually looking directly at each other and not a mirror.  
  
Thorin shook his head again. “And I _don’t_ want shorter hair.”  
  
“Hair extensions then?” Bilbo offered with a small smile as his hand cautiously settled on Thorin’s shoulder. ”Or… um, could I get you some coffee, maybe? Guaranteed not to shorten your hair.”  
  
“I’d like that,” Thorin said as he looked up at Bilbo. “The coffee, not the extensions.”  
  
“Good,” Bilbo said and his hand crept a little closer to Thorin’s neck. “Because your hair really is lovely. No need for any extensions at all. And if you’ve been making me cut it without actually wanting me to do it-” Bilbo narrowed his eyes.  "That's not very nice of you."  
  
“I’ll buy _you_ coffee then,” Thorin suggested.  
  
“Dinner,” Bilbo said as his fingers slid into dark locks. “I am _very_ fond of your hair.”  
  
“That’s at least two dinners then,” Thorin said, smiling when Bilbo beamed at him.  
  
“Deal.”


	26. Filmic Questions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Why is the cute guy always going to the cinema on his own? Kili is going to find out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tiny tiny tiny  
> Silly silly silly

"So do you have a crappy boyfriend and or girlfriend. Or no friends?"

"I'm sorry what?" Bilbo asked, blinking at the dark-haired man behind the counter, who winced and covered his eyes with a broad hand.

"It wasn't supposed to sound like that," he muttered. "I'm sure you have friends. But, you're always here alone? I was just- but it's none of business anyway."

Bilbo huffed out a small laugh when his brain caught up with the question. "I'm a film critic. I usually take notes, and see the same film several times. I'm not a lot of fun to go to the cinema with."

"Oh." the man, Kíli according to his name tag, fidgeted. "I'm sorry. Want some free popcorn, as my apology?"

"It's all right," Bilbo promised, smiling as he accepted his ticket. "No harm done."

"I was going to ask if you wanted to go with me, but I guess you don't." Big brown eyes blinked rapidly, and white teeth gnawed at a plush bottom lip. "Oh, um, sorry again. Sure you don't want popcorn? You probably have a boyfriend already. Or girlfriend. Or both."

"I don't," Bilbo replied, and Kíli perked up. "Would you like-?"

"I'm sorry." A tall redhead had appeared next to Kíli covering his mouth with her hand as she gave Bilbo an apologetic smile. "He's not supposed to be around other people."

"I don't mind," Bilbo admitted. He met Kíli's eyes and smiled. "Could I get a phone number instead of popcorn?"

"Mmmhph!" Kíli agreed.


	27. Sing It Out Loud

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin and Bilbo are the final two people left in an "American" idol-esque competition.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've several ficlets in process with a reality TV theme  
> Idk why, lol

They're the last two in the Mansion. Even the crew and their cameras have left. Probably because it's 3am in the morning and everyone is asleep. Or supposed to be asleep and thus not able to produce entertaining television.

  
However Bilbo is most definitely not sleeping. Or if he is he's dreaming about the ceiling above his bed and that would be very tragic so he’s going to go with not sleeping.

  
He _should_ sleep. In less than 12 hours he needs to be at rehearsals, and to be entirely honest with himself that's likely more something like 6 hours before someone (Tauriel) shows up to drag him away to try on clothes or something like that. Live shows makes everyone jittery, and nowit's the last one. The _finale_. The, erm, epic showdown, as the papers have taken to calling it.

  
Bilbo had never expected that he'd be one of the last ones left, but he’s not surprised that Thorin is still in the competition. The first time he'd heard Thorin sing it'd been enough to make his knees wobbly. And other parts not so wobbly. Enough said about that.

  
Sighing Bilbo rolls over in the bed and proceeds to get up. Just like he’s not surprised Thorin is still around Bilbo will not be the least bit surprise if Thorin wins, so it won't really matter much if he looks a little tired anyway.

  
  
Pulling on his robe Bilbo trots down to the kitchen to see if there's any ice cream left. 

  
  
He's a little surprised to see that the lights are already on. And that someone is already eating his ice cream.

  
  
"Thorin?"

  
  
"Bilbo," Thorin replies, voice dull.

  
  
"Is- has something happened?" If there's some family emergency they'd surely be allowed to-

  
  
"Not yet."

  
  
"Is your family all right?" Bilbo takes a seat next to Thorin by the counter, needing to climb a little to be able to perch on the high bar stool.

  
  
"My- yes?” Thorin turns to look at him, a frown appearing between his brows. “Why wouldn't they be?"

  
  
"You seem- upset."

  
  
Or actually the opposite. But telling someone they looked like a robot version of themselves seems rude.   
  
  
Thorin shrugs. "Tomorrow.  _Today_ , everything is going to change."  
  
  
  
Bilbo is reminded about the talk he had with Gandalf before agreeing to audition back in Hobbiton, but like he'd decided back then; if you're too afraid of changing your life to try new things, then what's the point of living anyway?

 

"But that's good though," Bilbo says, leaning in closer to Thorin to try and offer some comfort. Possibly also because Thorin is really warm and smells unfairly good. But not too close, because if he’s managed to keep from crossing any boundaries thus far he’s not going to ruin it on the last night. "You'll get the record contract and-"

 

"Or you will," Thorin says, and Bilbo snorts. 

 

"I'm not going to win. But even if we consider that I might then you'll still get an offer for a contract before we're officially off air."

 

"You could win."

 

Bilbo blinks. "Thorin have you listen to yourself singing? You're  _amazing_."

 

"And you write your own songs, play three instruments _and_ know how to sing."

 

"You play the guitar."

 

"You're more popular. Everyone likes you."

 

Bilbo is starting to think that he's dreaming after all. Though if he was then Thorin would probably be wearing less clothes. Not that the blue pyjama trousers and black T-shirt aren’t- Stop it.

 

"I'm not the one who has teenagers _fainting_ when he's on stage.”

 

Or the one who looks good no matter what he's wearing. Or not wea- _Stop it_ , Bilbo tells his brain again.

 

With a sigh Bilbo steals the tub of ice cream and ignoring Thorin's protests he goes to get a spoon for himself. 

 

"Just making sure you're not eating it all before I get some."

 

"Get your own."

 

"This is the last. I checked earlier.” Bilbo shrugs one shoulder. “They're not buying a lot of groceries now. Since it's just the two of us and it's the last week. Clearly they’ve underestimated the need for ice cream."

 

Thorin grunts but doesn’t protest when Bilbo sits back down beside him, and they finish the ice cream together. When they’re done Bilbo lingers as Thorin washes their spoons, pretending that the table cloth needs straightening. Quite a lot of straightening actually. Which is surely something Freud would be interested in.

 

They walk up the stairs together, stopping where the hallway split into two, each stretch of corridor taking one of them to their own bedroom.

 

"Whatever happens it's been an honour in getting this far with you," Bilbo says, smiling up at Thorin even as he puts his hands into the pockets of his robe as to not do anything stupid.

 

"I- same," Thorin says and nods at him. "Bilbo- I"

 

"Yes?"

 

Thorin is silent for a few long moments. "Sleep well."

 

"You too," Bilbo replies and smiles again before turning to walk towards his room. 

 

He doesn’t think he will, but this time he falls asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow. 

 

-

 

Later that day, so late that it's almost the next day entirely, Bilbo and Thorin stand together on stage in front of thousands of screaming people. 

 

"-one of the closest results we've ever had!" Elrond says, mostly to the audience, but he turns and nods and smiles at Bilbo and Thorin, and Bilbo feels a little bit better for it. 

 

He's pretty sure Elrond is exaggerating, but it-

 

When he's suddenly pulled in for a hug Bilbo flails a little before he fists his hands in the silky material of Thorin's shirt. 

 

The hug goes on and on, and Thorin apparently has no intention of letting go. Elrond, smooth and collected as always, keeps talking but Bilbo has stopped listening. To him that is.

 

"I don't want this to be the last time," Thorin whispers into Bilbo’s ear. "The last time I see you."

 

Bilbo isn't quite sure what he means, but he tries to help regardless. 

 

"You'll be doing two months of touring with me," he whispers back, only it's not really a whisper anymore as the audience have gotten even louder and he has to speak louder to try and make Thorin hear him. Hopefully none of their mics are transmitting at the moment. "Don't think you'll be rid of me that easily."

 

Thorin chuckles, something Bilbo only knows since they're pressed together. The sound is entirely lost. 

 

When Thorin pulls pack Bilbo wants to protest but he knows better than to actually do it. Like he said, he knows where the boundaries are.

 

Only...

 

Thorin reaches up to cup the side of Bilbo's face, gently brushing his thumb over Bilbo’s cheek. In Bilbo's left ear a tinny little voice is speaking through his earpiece, but he can't hear what it's saying. 

 

The crowd is whistling and shouting, but Bilbo doesn’t hear them either. Thorin's eyes are so very blue even with the the flashing white stage lights all around them.  
  
  


Thorin leans in closer and his breath puffs out over Bilbo's lips in the moment before he presses their mouths together.  
  
  


_"And the winner is..."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Who do you think won?)


	28. Shell Shocked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ori. Bofur. Turtles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Anon who wanted Bofur/Ori fluff where Bofur does something ridiculous and Ori does not approve even if he loves Bofur. 
> 
> Ridiculous is a very broad term *nods*

“You've bought thirty turtles on eBay?”  
  
Ori said that sentence again inside his head. No, it was really that ridiculous.

“They looked so sad in the photos,” Bofur explained, big green eyes pleading with Ori and if any of the turtles had looked like that Ori didn’t really blame Bofur for buying them. “And no one else wanted them. They'd been for sale for quite some time. And they weren’t very expensive anyway.”  
  
“But we don't have _room_ for thirty turtles.”

“But they came with their own aquariums? Terrariums? Little glass boxes with half land half water?”

“Terrariums.” Ori rubbed his forehead. “We don't have the room to put those anywhere either. As they’re actually _bigger_ than the turtles that will be inside of them.”  
  
Bofur looked around their admittedly tiny living room and his shoulders slumped.  
  
It made Ori want to pet him and kiss him and get him some hot tea. But not thirty turtles. There were limits.

-  
  
The rest of Ori’ and Bofur’s afternoon consisted of ringing around to schools and kindergarten asking if they had ever thought about adopting a turtle. Or two. Or even three. And if they wanted three then why not four, just to even things out.

But in the end they kept one and named him Tim. Tiny Tailless Tim, to be precise, a rather self-explanatory name.  
  
Only Tim turned out to have a tail after all, just a really small one. And he also turned out to be a she, at least that's what the veterinarian told them. But as Tim didn't seem to have any issue with her name a Tim she remained.


	29. Dwalin actually really likes flowers. Bilbo actually really likes wrestling.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Opposites attract. But sometimes opposites turns out not to be so opposite at all. 
> 
> Also, see title. (have you noticed that I say this a lot? not sure if that means I'm really great at titles, or really bad at them. and at summaries. In this case the title is a prompt, so I claim neither blame nor credit ;))

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Request by RarePairFairy: Dwalin actually really likes flowers. Bilbo actually really likes wrestling.
> 
> lol, and it's been a reaaaally long time since I got this prompt, sorry.

Their first meeting is at a gardening fair.   
  
Dwalin is there with Dís as Víli had to work and couldn’t go with her and Thorin had managed to come up with an excuse before Dwalin could.   
  
The thing was that Dís wasn’t really that interested in gardening either but a friend of hers was going to be there as an exhibitor and she wanted to support him. Only she needed some support in turn to be able to do that without falling asleep.

Dwalin and Bilbo meet in the line for one of the refreshment stands and strike up a conversation while they’re waiting.   
  
Bilbo sees Dwalin buying two drinks, sees him hand one off to a beautiful dark haired woman who then proceeds to drag him over to someone going on about fertiliser, and he thinks (a little wistfully) that Dwalin seems like a very good boyfriend. Not to mention the way his arms look in that T-shirt. (Bilbo also buys two drinks, _cold_ ones, because he rather needs them.)

-

The next time they meet it’s at a wrestling game. Match. Bilbo isn’t entirely sure what it’s called. Bofur convinced him to come along so they could cheer for Nori together.  
  
And by chance, fate or just some arbitrary system for how seats are assigned Dwalin finds himself next to the cute little blond he met the weekend before at the gardening thing.  
  
Sadly he seems to be there with his boyfriend. Or not, it turns out when the supposed-boyfriend runs up to kiss one of the people competing and cute blond guy smiles and cheers.  
  
Arguably he could have had two boyfriends, but Dwalin still dares to suggest that they meet up for drinks afterwards, and cute blond guy, Bilbo, says yes (after making sure that Dwalin actually doesn't have a girlfriend.)  
  
That could have been the end of the story (albeit the start of a new relationship) but not as such…  
  
-  
  
"I found these seeds at the market, and they look like little caterpillars. Where should I plant them?”  
  
“Let me see,” Bilbo says and studies the small brown seeds lying in Dwalin’s big palm. “That’s marigolds, so basically anywhere that’s sunny and not too wet. Want me to-?”  
  
Dwalin’s hand closes over the tiny dry seeds again. “Nah, I’ll give it a go.”  
  
Three months later Bilbo is presented with a big bouquet of yellow-orange marigolds and the smile Dwalin receives in return is enough to bring his growing (no pun intended) interest in gardening into blossom (all right, pun intended after all).

-  
  
“Dwalin could I try this hold Nori taught me on you? He said you’d not be able to get out of it.”  
  
A minute later Dwalin is on the floor on his belly, Bilbo sitting on his back.  
  
“Huh, he was right.”  
  
“Yeah, mind letting me up?”  
  
“I don’t know,” Bilbo teases. “I’m just beginning to see the fun part about wrestling.”  
  
Only that turned out to be more true than Bilbo had intended and the next time they went to cheer Nori on Bilbo shouted just as much and just as loud as anyone. Though he didn’t curse as much because his dad had still raised him properly, thank you very much.  
  
-  
  
Not being opposites can still attract though.  


-

  
“Right,” Bilbo says. “Put the spade down.”  
  
“But I need to-“   
  
“You’re not wearing a shirt and there’re smears of dirt on your face and you’re wearing _shorts_ and you’ve never looked more attractive, ever.”  
  
Dwalin blinks and Bilbo takes a step back inside the house and tugs off his own shirt. “Guess what you need to do,” the blond says taking another step backwards and Dwalin nods and puts his spade down.  
  
-  
Or:

  
“You all right?” Bilbo asked worriedly as Dwalin hit the floor a little too hard. “I didn’t mean to-“  
  
“Oh I’m more than all right,” Dwalin growled as he reached up to cup Bilbo’s face, dragging him down for a kiss.

-  
  
And that’s not the end of their story either, but it’s the end of this one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol, as I'm not doing smut in these stories the ending is rather abrupt, so sorry for that.


	30. You Fucking Toaster!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang's playing Battlestar Galactica the board game  
> Because why not

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol, sorry, this is not going to make much sense unless you know the game or series  
> The game is sorta set-up like Mafia though, if you know that one? You're a group needing to work together to accomplish a goal, and there's a traitor amongst you. But it's just a bit more complicated.

“I'm sending Frerin to the brig.”  
  
“Whyyyy?” Nori whined. “He's human we all know he's human. Two people have looked at his bloody card, why I have no idea since I keep telling you that _Bilbo_ is the fucking Cylon, but they have.”  
  
“Because he is an arse,” Thorin said and glared at his brother. “Stop trying to claim my president title.”  
  
“I’m not the Cylon!” Bilbo protested. “Why would I keep destroying raiders if I was a Cylon!”  
  
“That’s just what a Cylon would say,” Nori pointed out.  
  
“Thorin is going to get us all killed,” Frerin protested, pointing his finger at his brother. “You might even _be_ the Cylon. And I don't want a Cylon for President.”  
  
“Are we doing this or what?” Dís asked, tapping her fingers against her cards. “Skill cards at the ready if you want to throw Frerin into the brig or keep him out of it.”  
  
“Yes, madam Admiral, ma’am,” Frerin said and put two cards down.  
  
“Did you actually put in cards to send yourself to the brig?” Tauriel asked after they’d counted out the points. She put her head down against the table. “You fucking moron.”  
  
“I thought we needed the yellow cards to get me free!”  
  
“Fine, Frerin is in the brig and we’re all going to die,” Nori muttered. “And we have too much population and not enough fuel. Can we turn people into fuel?”  
  
“Cylon!” Bilbo gasped, clutching at his cards.  
  
“Oh fuck off,” Nori said and stuck his tongue out. “Seriously though, is there something in the rules that lets us do this?"  
  
“We’re not killing anyone,” Thorin said and squared his shoulders. “We’re all going to make it or we’ll all die together.”

“See,” Frerin said. “This is why he can’t be president. Nori, you know I’m right. Get me out of here.”  
  
“It’s not my turn,” Nori shrugged. “Mutiny will have to wait.”  
  
“Nori,” Thorin said, placing both palms on the table and leaning towards the redhead. “Do _not_ trust my brother. He will betray us.”  
  
“No, because _Bilbo_ is the fucking Cylon,” Nori groaned. “Just because you don’t want to see it…”  
  
Thorin looked at Bilbo who looked as innocent as a new-born fawn.  
  
“Bloody hell,” Nori murmured. “We’re doomed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like somewhat complicated board games and enjoyed the BSG series you should def check this game out!


	31. EVEN MORE BUNNIES

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sequel to chapter 19 and chapter 2
> 
> Bunnies! :D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by White_Rabbits_Clock 
> 
> Um, tense switch at a certain point, because that was how the story wanted to go. I hope it's not too annoying.

What happened at Rivendell stayed at Rivendell.

Not that anything actually happened, Bilbo merely shooed the smaller and furrier versions of Fíli and Kíli inside the room and shooed himself _out_ of the room before Thorin woke up, trusting that the Dwarf would not be asleep for long with two even bouncier than normal nephews around.  
  
_And_ trusting that just like himself Thorin wouldn’t remember everything that had happened during his time as a rabbit, so as long as Bilbo didn’t mention certain things like Thorin trying to crawl inside his shirt, demanding to be petted, and indeed the bit where Bilbo had been in the same bed that Thorin had woken up naked in, as long as he didn’t mentioned _those things_ there was no reason for Thorin to be upset with him.  
  
Exactly why Thorin would be upset Bilbo couldn’t specify, but when Thorin showed up for breakfast looking rather grumpy the Hobbit felt sure that it was indeed best to tone down his own involvement with Thorin during his time as a rabbit. He'd probably be embarrassed by it all and then never speak to Bilbo again.  
  
It was of course possible that Thorin was grumpy simply due to his heirs being somewhat _indisposed_ at the moment, but best not to risk it.  
  
And indeed, when Fíli and Kíli turned back into their normal Dwarven forms during the meal he did not look any happier.  
  
“Is this a dream?” Kíli asked looking down into his lap, and then at Dori as he was sitting in _Dori_ 's lap. “Sometimes I dream that I’m naked. Not usually during breakfast though.”  
  
Fíli tried to act like everything was entirely normal, like it was _perfectly_ all right for him to be naked in Bofur's lap, but he didn't quite manage, not in the least because everyone could easily see just how far down his blush spread.  
  
-  
  
It was a risk to leave Rivendell since no one knew if there would be other members of the Company that would suddenly find themselves with a poofy tail and pointy ears, but they couldn’t stay in Rivendell the rest of their lives either. At least, the Dwarfs seemed very opposed to this idea, and Bilbo was the only one looking over his shoulder as they left, letting out a small sigh as he did so.  
  
Which of course wasn’t small enough that Thorin missed hearing it, and Bilbo bit back the next sigh that wanted to escape when faced with Thorin's displeased glare.  
  
Thorin wasn’t nearly as intimidating after you’d petted his ears though, and Bilbo tried to hold on to that thought as best as he could as he walked past Thorin on the path.  
  
Only it worked a little too well and when Thorin’s nose twitched as he passed Bilbo suddenly had to hide a giggle instead of a sigh.  
  
-  
  
That night when they made camp everything was... well not normal as they were still missing most of the gear they'd lost when all the ponies bolted, but it was normal enough, and they all had blankets and a warm fire and Bilbo fell asleep listening to the sound of snoring, something that had already become comforting rather than annoying.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
Bilbo wakes up because he’s cold. So very very cold. He sniffs into the air and even the air smells cold, but it also smells of other things. Like friends and comfort and being warm.  
  
It takes a little work to crawl out of the layers covering him, but eventually he makes it.

His eyes widens as he sees the fire, because even if fire is warm he doesn’t like it and his ears droop. It’s not safe at all. No, better to find the others. And if possible a nice cosy hole to sleep in.  
  
In the light from the fire Bilbo sees many small lumps, but none of his friends, and he makes a sad high-pitched noise. Where _are_ they?  
  
Then one of the lumps stir and a large black rabbit squirms his way free of bulky armour and thick cloth, making soft muttering noises as he does so.

Bilbo is so happy that he feels the need to jump around for a little while, accidentally jumping on some of the lumps as he does so, but that is all right because then the lumps wake up and turn into more of his friends.  
  
Sadly it only makes him feel a little bit warmer, and when Bilbo stops bouncing he shivers. And he continues to shiver until the large black rabbit comes and grunts at him, before he lies down half on top of him.  
  
_Thorin_ , Bilbo’s smaller than normal brain informs him, and Bilbo is happy. He’s even more happy when more friends come to join them, piling up around them and creating a warm comfortable nest of themselves. Bilbo's ears and nose twitch. _Dwalin_ , _Bofur_ , _Bifur_ , _Balin_... soon everyone is accounted for and Bilbo allows himself to relax.  
  
It's possible that this might even be _better_ than a hole in the ground.  
  
Sighing happily Bilbo bumps his nose together with Thorin’s and goes to sleep once more.

 ~ ~ ~  
  
The morning after was rather… awkward.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, and if I get one more subscriber I have a nice even number, which would be pleasing *nods* lol, at least for like, whatever time it takes to get another one and then it's all ruined *snickers*


	32. Love gives you wings? If you exchange love with magic, then yes...  (part 1?)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wingfic!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't resist using magic as a plot device.
> 
> Prompt by KnowNonsense, and thank youuu diemarysues for the inspiration re type of wings !

Immediately when Bilbo woke up he knew something strange had happened.  
  
His back ached, and when he opened his eyes he could see all of his Dwarven companions looking up at him with round, wide eyes. Yes, _up_.  
  
Because the third thing Bilbo noticed was the entire world was upside down. Or rather, that _he_ was.  
  
Then Bilbo fell out of the tree he’d been hanging from.  
  
If not for Dwalin’s quick thinking his landing would have been quite an uncomfortable one, but as things were Dwalin managed to grab Bilbo before he hit the ground, and Bilbo yelped and wrapped arms, legs and…

The Hobbit’s eyes widened. _Wings_.  
  
He had arms, legs and _wings_ wrapped around Dwalin’s sturdy form, only Bilbo was very much sure that he wasn’t supposed to have any wings to wrap around anything. Much less dark almost sinister looking wings. They reminded Bilbo of the bats that usually flapped about at dusk during summer. Only much larger, and attached to _him_. And rather… furry. Small curly tufts of hair all along the upper edges, growing thicker closer to his shoulders.  
  
“What’s going on?” Bilbo asked – voice just this side of shrill - looking up into Dwalin’s blue-grey eyes.  
  
“You were gone when we woke up,” Dwalin said gruffly. “Found you hanging in the tree.”  
  
“Is this something Hobbits do?” Kíli asked, head tilted to the side in confusion.  
  
“Grow wings over night?” Bilbo asked, no less shrilly than before. “No, we most certainly _don’t_.”  
  
It occurred to him that he probably should stop clinging to Dwalin, especially since neither of them was wearing a shirt, so Bilbo loosened his grip and squirmed (and flapped his wings) until Dwalin put him back on the ground.  
  
The moment he was released Bilbo swayed, not used to the slight extra weight on his back.  
  
With a frown Dwalin reached out and curled his arm around Bilbo’s waist, holding him steady. “Careful.”  
  
“Careful,” Bilbo murmured. “Right.” His wings flapped in agreement, pushing him forward, into Dwalin’s chest, making him squish his nose against it. Perhaps not agreement after all then.  
  
-  
  
Gandalf was mysteriously absent, which could be an admission of guilt, or just the Wizard’s usual tendency to disappear when he was wanted.  
  
“I don’t remember anything,” Bilbo said. “You’d think I’d at least remember getting up into the tree?”  
  
Balin hummed noncommittally. “I would say magic is to blame for this.”  
  
Bilbo stared at him, and then stared some more. “Really? And here I was contemplating blaming Bombur’s snoring. I’m _so_ glad you cleared that up for me.”  
  
The sound from Bofur’s direction was suspiciously similar to a giggle.  
  
-  
  
Magical wings or not, they couldn’t stand around gaping at Bilbo the whole morning, and after making sure that he was all right except for a lingering ache in the muscles of his back they had breakfast and then they packed up camp and continued on their way.  
  
Luckily Bilbo’s pony didn’t seem to mind how Bilbo wasn’t exactly the same Hobbit as yesterday, but that still meant that he needed to learn how to ride all over again. He kept tipping backwards and to the sides since his sense of balance was all wrong.  
  
“Do you think you could fly?” Fíli asked, riding up beside Bilbo as the Hobbit was cursing beneath his breath. “Flying would be faster than riding.”  
  
“And what if the wings disappear while I’m up in the air?” Bilbo asked and shuddered. “No thank you. If Hobbits were meant to fly Eru would have given us wings.”  
  
“Maybe the delivery was a little late?” Kíli suggested. “Maybe all Hobbits have wings now. It’s not like we can check.”  
  
Opening his mouth to deny it Bilbo closed it again. Maybe that was what had happened. Maybe everyone in the Shire had had the same sort of morning he'd had.  
  
"Oh dear,” Bilbo murmured as the image of the large party tree filled with sleeping Hobbits flashed before his mind.  
  
-  
  
Wings aside it turned out to be a perfectly normal day, but as the day passed afternoon and entered early evening Bilbo began to feel very tired. Tired and _cold_ , even though Dori and Bofur had been absolutely lovely and managed to alter his clothes enough that he could still wear a shirt despite having some… unfortunate circumstances.  
  
The temperature had dropped as the sun began to set, but that was normal enough. Certainly not enough to merit the shivers running through Bilbo with increasing frequency. When the time came to stop to make camp for the night Bilbo almost couldn’t make himself get off the pony; too tired and too cold.  
  
“Whoa there,” Bofur said as Bilbo all but tumbled to the ground. “Bilbo?”  
  
And Bilbo tried to reply, he really did, but before he could manage to make his lips form the right words the world got awfully dark.  
  
-  
  
For the second time that day Bilbo woke up knowing that something unusual was going on.  
  
His bedroll was awfully lumpy to start, but very, very warm, which was nice, and Bilbo yawned and stretched languidly; wings fluttering against the blankets covering them, and then he opened his eyes to meet Bofur’s amused ones. Amused and just a little worried.  
  
“Certain types of bats hibernate during the winter,” Bofur said, warm breath stirring the curls on top of Bilbo’s head. “And you were very cold. We needed to warm you up.”  
  
In the next few moments Bilbo realised that he was lying on top of Bofur; blankets wrapped snugly around them both, but apart from the blankets they weren’t really wearing a whole lot. Just their underthings.  
  
“’m not a bat,” was all Bilbo could think to say, feeling the heat of his blush spread over his cheeks and down his chest.  
  
"I don't know," Bofur teased. "Small, furry, now with wings. And you're awfully fond of sweet fruits and flowers."  
  
"I'm- _you're_ furry," Bilbo protested, which wasn't the best of comebacks but it had the advantage of being true. Bofur's chest was entirely covered with dark hair, soft but wiry against Bilbo's cheek. Or... it had been. Before he lifted his head. And he didn't want to put it back down again. Nope.  
  
"Thank you," Bofur grinned.  
  
"All right?" Dwalin asked, and Bilbo tried to turn and look at him, but he only succeeded at almost falling off Bofur, who raised his arms to curl around Bilbo's smaller form.  
  
"Is that dinner?" Bofur asked and Bilbo's stomach rumbled in enquiry.  
  
"I can't eat like this," Bilbo pointed out and contemplated squirming again. Only... that didn't seem like a very clever idea. Because of _reasons_. "And where are my clothes?"  
  
"Better to share body heat without a bunch of layers in the way," Dwalin said as he sat down next to them, putting two bowls on the ground. "All right, give him here."  
  
"Now wait a moment." Bilbo wriggled as Dwalin lifted him away from Bofur, settling him on his lap. "This is not-" as soon as he got his hands free one of them acquired a bowl of soup and Bilbo's stomach rumbled again.  
  
"Eat," Dwalin prompted as Bofur sat up and pulled on his shirt before grabbing his own bowl. "A full stomach will help keep you warm."  
  
Dwalin was just as warm as Bofur had been, so it seemed very unlikely that he'd be cold when pressed up against him, but Bilbo was hungry. His wings (and that was still a very strange though to have) were a little bit squished as they were pressed against Dwalin's chest, but not uncomfortable so. Actually, it was very cosy and nice to-  
  
Sighing Bilbo stopped that thought before it got embarrassing and instead lifted the bowl to his mouth.  
  
If this was somehow Gandalf's fault then they would have _words_. He wasn't sure what sort of words, but he was rather sure that they would be loud ones.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't want to add this to tags because spoilers, but BILBO!BAT  
> Isn't that just the best tag ever?
> 
> lol, KnowNonsense, not sure if this is at all what you were imagining re wings? (sorry not sorry? lol because Bilbo!Bat is just adorable)
> 
> miiiiiight continue this  
> today was not a good writing day, this took me aaaaages as it was
> 
> if you'd be interested in seeing more, do let me know :)  
> And idk if I've ever done a Bilbo/Bofur/Dwalin pairing before?


	33. Love gives you wings? If you exchange love with magic, then yes...  (part 2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol, I'm v happy so many agrees that Bilbo!Bat is just the cutest thing

When Bilbo woke up the next morning he was still on the ground, which was a relief. But… finding himself lying between Dwalin and Bofur; mostly on top of Dwalin, the three of them snug as something very snug indeed, well, relief was not the word Bilbo would use.  
  
But it was… _nice_. Which was part of the problem. Especially when Thorin stomped over to stand next to them, giving Bilbo a surly glare.  
  
“Not in a tree today.”  
  
It didn’t really sound like a question (what it sounded like was someone very grumpy) but Bilbo decided to treat it like a question anyway.  
  
“No, indeed not,” he agreed, trying to discretely get down from Dwalin without waking him.  
  
“Piss off,” Dwalin muttered without opening his eyes. “Not you,” he added, when Bilbo began to squirm in earnest, and a big warm hand came up to press against the small of Bilbo’s back. “Thorin, it’s too early.”  
  
“Or too _late_ ,” Thorin said pointedly, and Bilbo tilted his head.

“But it’s just after dawn?”  
  
Thorin didn’t reply and instead stalked off muttering beneath his breath about something not suitable for a quest as importance as this one.  
  
“Mind his own business,” Dwalin murmured, and Bilbo wondered if he knew that his hand was now rubbing small, cosy circles. Bilbo was _very_ much aware of it, but then again, it was his back. Perhaps backs had more awareness than hands, even though-  
  
“Morning,” Bofur yawned and Bilbo turned to look at him, a smile finding its way to his lips at the rumpled image Bofur presented. Coming down from the yawn Bofur smiled back, green eyes crinkling at the corners. “Now that’s a pretty sight.”

“What?” Bilbo blinked.  
  
“Well, you.”  
  
Dwalin snorted and Bofur reached over Bilbo to poke him, accidentally squishing Bilbo a little in the process, but that was also rather… nice.

It was possible that Bilbo needed to find a better word to describe what he felt when Bofur and Dwalin were this close to him.  
  
It was also possible that Bilbo had already found such a word and that was why a blush was now creeping up his neck and face.  
  
“Right,” Bofur said, after finishing a mostly silent conversation with Dwalin that Bilbo only caught the end of; Bofur’s eyebrows twitching and Dwalin humming in agreement. “No time like the present to make a few things clear.”  
  
Bilbo’s wings twitched nervously and this time when he squirmed Dwalin allowed him to sit up.

“The both of us would like to court you,” Bofur said and Bilbo’s mouth fell open. “If you're only wanting to go with one of us-“ he exchanged a look with Dwalin “- well, then I hope you won't mind us still carrying on at the same time. Well, not the same time, but when the one of us that you’d not be interested in would not mind-“ Bofur scratched his head. “Wait, what was I saying?”  
  
Dwalin snorted and sat up as well, blankets pooling in his lap and Bilbo resolutely kept his eyes on Dwalin’s face. The quick little up and down surely didn't count.  
  
“If you're not interested in either of us we’ll understand.”  
  
“Well, perhaps not _understand_ ,” Bofur said thoughtfully. “I mean, we’re both quite hands-“  
  
“Bofur…”  
  
“You mean that the both of you?” Bilbo looked between them. “And then, _me_?”  
  
Bofur shrugged, giving Dwalin a bright smile before turning back to Bilbo. “I still claim I liked you first-“  
  
“I _met_ him first-“  
  
“And then I realised that Dwalin did not only have good taste but is also very handsome, which was a nice windfall.” Bofur’s grin widened. “In other words, we got to know each other better whilst we were admiring your _technique_ on pony back. Amongst other things.”  
  
“Right,” Bilbo said faintly.   
  
“For example, you’ve got very pretty lips?” Bofur said hopefully, leaning a little closer.  
  
Something buzzed next to Bilbo’s ear, and figuring out that it wasn’t his brain overheating Bilbo plucked the offending dragonfly out of the air and stuffed it in his mouth.  
  
The moment afterwards his eyes widened and he spit the poor thing out, his wings fluttering rapidly behind him. The dragonfly’s wings did much the same before it zipped away as fast as it could.  
  
Bilbo wondered a little mournfully why he couldn’t have gotten wings like that instead, and then he spat again.  
  
Bofur gave him a somewhat awkward look. “So not just a fruit-eating bat then?”

“Go and get him something to drink,” Dwalin sighed. “Bilbo, if you don’t want a kiss you don’t need to eat insects to get out of it. Though I'm sure Thorin will approve of your choice."  
  
Right. Dragon.  
  
“If you can even _think_ about kissing me now you must really,” Bilbo paused. “Um, like me?”

Bofur nodded and Dwalin sighed. “Wouldn’t be looking to court you otherwise, would we?”  
  
That was… nice.  
  
Really, he needed to find a better word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this is all for now  
> If I do end up continuing this I think I'm going to copy the bits and posting in a separate fic.
> 
> (thinking about doing the same with the bunny ones and expanding on it, yay?)


	34. Sleeepee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by FoxDragon, that was basically this pairing and lazy morning cuddling with preg!Bilbo

Thorin woke up to the sound of Bilbo giggling. A quick look revealed that Frerin was still asleep, curled up on Bilbo’s other side, so it couldn’t be him who was causing the giggles.  
  
The question of what was going on came out sounding more like a quiet (albeit questioning) grunt, but it was enough to make Bilbo roll his way, something that took a little more work than normal as Bilbo’s stomach normally wasn’t roughly the same size as the rest of him.  
  
“Baby is moving,” Bilbo explained, lips twitching. “Feels like I’ve got a bunch of happy butterflies inside my stomach.” He paused for a moment. “Also, for once I don’t need to pee right after waking. Happy days indeed.”  
  
“Noisy,” Frerin muttered and Thorin snorted.  
  
“Are we disturbing you?”  
  
“Hrrng.” Frerin sighed and squirmed until he could hook his chin over Bilbo’s shoulder, one big hand sliding around to rest over his round stomach. “Sleep. Both of you. All three of you.”  
  
As if protesting, a tiny foot or hand bumped against Frerin’s palm.  
  
“Shhhh,” the blond whispered, and the gentle stroking of his fingers made Bilbo squirm.

“Don’t you start tickling from the outside as well.”  
  
“Mmrm, love you.”  
  
“That’s not an excuse,” Bilbo protested, but it was rather half-heartedly and he covered Frerin's hand with his, tangling their fingers together.  
  
“Good morning,” Thorin said, leaning in for a kiss, though when he came closer Frerin lifted his hand, Bilbo's along for the ride, and swatted at him.  
  
“Not. Morning. Yet.”  
  
“Don’t worry,” Thorin said, stealing a quick kiss from Bilbo and another one when the first made Bilbo hum happily beneath his breath. “We can entertain ourselves without you.”  
  
Bilbo began to giggle again during the next kiss. “ _Someone_ is very much awake at least.” He stiffened for a moment. “And he or she just found my bladder. Now I do need to pee. And I mean now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I take all responsibility for that title


	35. Thou Art Lovely

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by Julie290:  
> pining!Thorin keeps making beautiful drawings of Bilbo (sometimes romantic ones with himself in it, but mostly just Bilbo smiling or doing everyday stuff) and keeps them hidden, then Bilbo catches him in the act.

Bilbo hadn’t mean to snoop. Truly He’d just popped into Thorin’s office to borrow a pen, and he would have asked first, except for Thorin being on the phone with his sister and Bilbo didn’t want to disturb him but he really wanted to do the crossword in the paper and pens seemed to be banished from Thorin's awfully modern and expensive looking kitchen.  
  
He definitely didn’t mean to make a folder full of paper fall to the floor, several sheets sliding out to lie on the carpet and while he _had_ meant to look at them that was just because it was really hard to pick something up if you weren’t looking at it.

He would never in a million years have expected to find his own face looking up at him from the paper.  
  
At first he thought it was a photo, but upon a second look he realised that it was a drawing. An incredibly well-made drawing. The papers were all drawings. And most of them were of him, and the ones that weren’t were all of Dís, Frerin, the boys and other members of Thorin’s family.  
  
It- How- Why- When?

When Thorin called his name some time later Bilbo was still kneeling on the floor, looking through picture after picture of himself. And just when he heard Thorin’s steps on the wooden floor he found the first out of several drawings of him and Thorin together. Holding hands. Napping together on the couch. Eating what seemed to be a rather romantic dinner together if one was to judge by the candles and the wine glasses and- Bilbo blinked.

No wait, that was what things usually looked like when Thorin cooked for the both of them. What if-  
  
“Bilbo what are you-?”

“I didn’t even know that you could draw,” Bilbo said softly when Thorin froze in the doorway. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to-“  
  
“I’m sure I should be the one to apologise,” Thorin said stiffly. “I- If you- it was never my intention to make you uncomfortable.”  
  
“I’m not.” Bilbo shook his head. “It’s not like these are photos of me in the shower. That would be… yes. Or even _drawings_ of me in the shower. These are…” he brushed his thumb over the corner of one of the pages, careful not to smudge any of the actual drawing. “It’s very sweet. You could have told me that we'd started dating without me knowing about it though.”  
  
“Bilbo, you don’t need to-“  
  
“I like this one in particular,” Bilbo said and got to his feet. He held the drawing out for Thorin, but when Thorin reached for it Bilbo took his hand instead, turning the paper to show that it was the drawing of the both of them holding hands. He gave Thorin’s hand a small squeeze. “Life imitates art. You’ve not done one of us kissing?”  
  
“It’s-“ Thorin voice was a little deeper than normal and he shook his head. “I couldn’t.”  
  
“Maybe art can imitate life then?” Bilbo said, taking a step closer so that he was almost but not quite touching Thorin, aside from how they were still holding hands of course.  
  
Thorin’s tongue flicked out over his bottom lip as his eyes dropped to Bilbo’s mouth and Bilbo couldn’t help but lick his own lips when Thorin nodded and leaned closer.  
  
As their mouths brushed against each other the paper in Bilbo’s hand fluttered to the floor. 


	36. Rev My Engine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sequel to Chapter 8, Mechanic!Thorin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by Syxx :) (who also prompted the first story ^^)

“Thorin?”  
  
“In here!”

“ _Under there,_ you mean,” Bilbo said as he walked into the next room and still didn’t see his boyfriend. However he could hear a lot of banging noises coming from beneath the large pick-up truck standing in the middle of the room. “Dinner.”  
  
“I know I’m late but-“  
  
“No, I mean, I brought dinner.” Bilbo smiled when Thorin rolled out from beneath the truck. “If you can’t come to dinner, dinner comes to you?” Bilbo had to snicker when he got a good look at Thorin’s face, or rather at the streaks of oil and dirt on it. “Though if your hands are even half as dirty as the rest of you you’ll want to wash first. I brought sandwiches and a thermos of soup. Hey,” he added when a thought occurred to him. “You’re supposed to wear your safety glasses when you’re working like that. Right, break for you now.”  
  
“Anyone else around?” Bilbo asked as Thorin made his way out from underneath the car. “I’ve brought plenty.”  
  
“No I’m the last one.” Thorin made a noise somewhere between a snort and a laugh. “Though I almost had to order Samwise out of here before he’d leave. Sense of duty in that one is perhaps tad too well-developed. I should have him spend time with Fíli and Kíli.”  
  
“Pfft,” Bilbo said. “They’re ten and eight. Give them time. And then a little more time as no one is at their best during their teens. Go and wash your hands.”

“I require a kiss first.”  
  
Bilbo eyed Thorin’s hands sceptically. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but only if you keep your hands to yourself.”  
  
-  
  
The solution for this was (according to Thorin) Bilbo sitting on the hood of the truck, with Thorin’s hands braced on each side of Bilbo as he made room for himself between Bilbo’s legs. Thorin's overalls weren't the cleanest things ever, but they were clean _enough_.  
  
“Happy now?” Bilbo asked between kisses. “Kissing me _and_ getting to feel up a car at the same time?”  
  
“Pick-up truck,” Thorin murmured.  
  
“Yeah, talk dirty to me,” Bilbo snorted. “Tell me about engines, darling.”  
  
“Funny.”  
  
Bilbo snickered. “I do-“  
  
That was when the car alarm went off.  
  
“Part of the issues with this car is the alarm going off at random,” Thorin half-shouted as he backed away from Bilbo who sighed.  
  
“Imagine that.”   



	37. The Morning Mystery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bofur grinned and winked, leaning back in her library chair, and Ori very resolutely did not look at her chest, because that would be rude. Dori would certainly have taught her better if Dori had known that her youngest sister was interested in such things and yeah Ori was going to tell her one of these days but-

“Ori?”  
  
“Hmm?”  
  
“Any chance you overslept this morning?”  
  
Ori looked up from her book and blinked at Bofur. “How on earth do you know that? We didn’t have any morning lectures together today.”  
  
Bofur grinned and winked, leaning back in her library chair, and Ori very resolutely did not look at her chest, because that would be rude. Dori would certainly have taught her better if Dori had known that her youngest sister was interested in such things and yeah Ori was going to tell her one of these days but-  
  
“Go on a date with me if I tell you?”  
  
It took Ori a moment to convince her jaw to return to a less moronic looking position. “Seriously?”  
  
“Well, if I tell you that I was creeping outside your window you’ve the right to change your mind. But I wasn’t, just for the record.” Bofur looked very earnestly at her, and then ruined it by winking again.  
  
“No, I mean, you want to go on a date, with me?”  
  
Ori had only known Bofur since the start of the semester, but she was easily one of the most popular people Ori had ever met. It seemed like she knew everyone, and got invited to all the parties. She’d thought that Bofur mostly hung out with her since they’d ended up sitting together on the first day of Music Theory and then the professor had decided that they needed to keep those same seats. For what reason Ori still wasn’t sure, but the word harmony had been used entirely too many times during the explanation.  
  
“Well yeah,” Bofur nodded. “Would be silly to ask you if I wanted someone else.”  
  
“Oh, okay,” Ori said, an answering smile coming to her lips when Bofur grinned at her again.  
  
“Ah, but I need to reveal my secret first. The mystery of how I knew you were late this morning.”  
  
“I wasn’t late,” Ori protested. “I just- needed to run to school. So out of breath would be a better way to describe it.” She tilted her head to the side. “Did you see me panting through the hallway?”  
  
Bofur snorted and tapped her fingers against the edge of the table. “No, and bit forward this, but the first time I get to see you panting I hope I’ve got something to do with it.”  
  
“Oh.” Ori felt her cheeks heat. “I’d like that.”  
  
“Great, not too forward!” Bofur cheered, following her words by leaning forward over the table. “I wasn’t sure. But brilliant. Oh, and the secret’s your socks by the way.”  
  
“My… socks.”  
  
The skin at the edges of Bofur’s green eyes crinkled just slightly when she smiled and Ori rather wanted to lick it. But that was probably not polite nor hygienic.  
  
“You’ve got one blue and one pink sock. ‘S rather adorable.”  
  
Ori’s eyes widened and she tucked her feet in beneath her chair as if that would fix the problem. “Oh no.”  
  
“No, it _is_ adorable,” Bofur teased, taking one of Ori’s hands and giving it a squeeze. “Though if you want to take them off, feel free to put them on my bedroom floor?” She paused for a moment. “Too forward? I can never tell.”  
  
A snort made its way out of Ori’s throat. “Taking off my socks aren’t particularly shocking so I think you’re fine.”  
  
“Could I get a kiss then? Best to have that sort of thing over and done with before a date. Less pressure. And to clarify I meant here. We don’t have to move to my bedroom. Though if you want-“  
  
Giggling Ori leaned over the table and pressed their lips together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol, prompt was multicoloured socks and I guess that diemarysues might not have meant like this, but this was the idea that came to me.


	38. Hopefully Not-Creepy Guy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tauriel/Frerin - prompt is sunbathing

When Tauriel rolled onto her back something made a crinkling sound which was strange. Sand didn’t crinkle, neither did beach towels. At least unless entirely too much starch was involved and if you starched your towels that likely meant you had some unresolved issues you needed to look into.

Anyway, the crinkling sound was revealed to come from a piece of paper with one corner pushed in beneath the towel, the rest of it weighed down with a small rock.  
  
Frowning Tauriel pushed her sunglasses up to her forehead and reached for it.  
  
_‘So I’ve spent entirely too long thinking about how to ask you out in a way that’s not creepy,_  
_but telling you that I’ve never seen anyone as beautiful as you while you’re obviously minding your own business,_  
 _not to mention potentially sleeping now, which sucks as I’ve just figured out I could say something about your book_  
 _(like how I’m pretty sure I’m a Hufflepuff)_  
 _not to mention both of us being mostly naked_  
 _(I promise I’ve made this particular observation on your part with the ~~bare~~ minimum amount of looking)_  
 _that does indeed seem creepy. And I really don’t want you to feel that you can’t stay and do your thing._  
  
_But yeah, if you’re in the mood for maybe an ice cream or soda I’ll be the hopefully not-creepy looking blond guy (long hair) sitting_  
 _(and not going anywhere else) by the life guard tower._  
  
_I’m Frerin, and if I never find out who you are I still think you’re absolutely gorgeous, so thank you for that._

_(I realise I probably shouldn't have underlined hopefully. Um, sorry if that looks more creepy.)'  
_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you think she goes for it? Or did Frerin's lack of proper sentence structure scare her off entirely.


	39. Date night! (Or is it?)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kíli had been very quiet all evening, ever since they’d sat down at the restaurant to have dinner and Ori was starting to get a bit nervous and or worried.

Kíli had been very quiet all evening, ever since they’d sat down at the restaurant to have dinner and Ori was starting to get a bit worried.   
  
"Is there… something wrong?" Ori asked after they’d been served their desserts. Hesitating a little he reached out to place his hand on top of Kíli’s.   
  
For a few moment’s Kíli just looked at their hands and then he turned confused brown eyes at Ori.

"Is this a date?" he asked, and Ori’s stomach dropped to the vicinity of his knees. This was their eleventh date. Not that he’d been counting or anything. Only… hadn’t Kíli _known_?  
  
"You didn’t- it- we, it’s-“ Ori tried to pull his hand back but Kíli curled his fingers around his wrist. “Not if you don’t want it to be?" Ori finished lamely, looking down at the table. “I’m sorry, I thought you knew.”  
  
“But you just asked if I wanted to go to _dinner_. Or to the cinema. Or-“ Kíli tilted his head to the side. “Were all those _dates_?”  
  
Ori bit his lip. “I meant them to be, but-“

“Wow,” Kíli said, and Ori’s stomach sank a little further at the disbelief in Kíli’s voice. “So we’ve been dating for what, like almost three weeks, and I’ve not even gotten as much as a kiss goodnight? That’s not fair.”   
  
“Um, I’m _sorry_?” Ori said, feeling like he’d missed something.  
  
“Yeah you should be,” Kíli frowned. “What, don’t you want to kiss me?”  
  
“I didn’t think- I didn’t want to push you into something you weren’t ready for?” As far as Ori knew he was the first guy Kíli had dated. Only, well, not-dated might be more apt.  
  
Kíli gave Ori’s hand a squeeze before he moved his hand back and picked up his spoon. “We’re having our first kiss tonight then. No wait-“  
  
Ori’s stomach, which had begun to crawl its way back up from his ankles, slid down once more.  
  
“We should kiss now.”  
  
“Now?”  
  
Kíli nodded. “If you want to?”

To say that Ori was confused would have been like calling water wet, but still, he managed a nod.   
  
Giving him a bright grin Kíli put his spoon down and stretched forwards over the table. “Come here then?”  
  
More out of reflex than anything else Ori pressed his palm against the table and leaned over, meeting Kíli half-way.  
  
“So,” Kíli murmured against his lips, big warm hand coming up to cup the back of Ori’s neck. “Who’s more stupid? Me not realising that these were dates or you not realising that I wasn’t realising.”  
  
“Call it even?” Ori suggested, daring to press their lips together again.  
  
“Fair enough,” Kíli agreed, stealing another kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Doooooooooorks


	40. Will you do me the honour of- STOP THAT!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'A meticulously planned proposal ( Everything has to be Just-So with Dori...), being obstructed by oblivious brothers.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by Tera2 :)

“I’m sorry,” Nori said, actually looking apologetic. “I didn’t know the strawberries were off limits.”  
  
“You don’t even _like_ strawberries,” Dori moaned. “I didn’t think-“  
  
“Bofur likes ‘em,” Nori shrugged. “Sorry. But come on, you can ask Balin to marry you without strawberries.”  
  
Dori’s mouth fell open. “I’m not- how did you-?”  
  
“Found the ring,” Nori shrugged. “I’m assuming you’re not going to ask someone else to marry you. Still, you shouldn’t leave rings lying around like that.”  
  
“It was in a box, in my nightstand, below-“ Dori glared at his brother. “You are going to go and buy me new strawberries. And _stop_ looking through my things.”  
  
-  
  
“I’m sorry,” Ori said, biting his bottom lip and looking like a frightened kitten. “I didn’t mean to.”  
  
Dori sighed. “I’m not mad, Ori. Don’t look like I’m about to ground you. You’re 25, I think you’re a bit too old for that to work anymore.”  
  
“I’m still sorry,” Ori said. “I thought it was just trash. They were on the floor.”  
  
Dori just barely managed to hide a wince. He’d spent hours writing and folding little notes for Balin; memories, things that Dori loved about him, one very bad poem… That last one was likely no big loss.  
  
“I shouldn’t have left them on the table,” Dori said and patted Ori’s hand. “The window was open and the wind must have- but never mind.”  
  
“Was it something important? I can go get them from the trash if you-“  
  
“No, no,” Dori said, shaking his head. “It’s not- it’s all right.”  
  
He’d rather not propose to Balin with notes stained with goodness only knew what.  
  
“Yeah,” Ori said, still looking very guilty. “I guess they’ll be all stained from the strawberries anyway.”  
  
“Strawberries?” Dori asked. “Did you eat my _strawberries_.”  
  
Breaking at least one law of physics Ori managed to look even guiltier.  
  
“Your- I’m sorry. I thought Nori bought them? And he doesn’t even like strawberries. So I thought-“  
  
Just lovely.  
  
-  
  
Dori had planned on proposing to Balin over a nice quiet dinner at home. But at home did not seem to be as good of a location as he’d first thought, for two brother shaped reasons.  
  
A restaurant it was then, with a private booth. And strawberries that Nori, well Bofur, and Ori couldn’t possibly eat.   
  
Balin loved strawberries, and Dori was going to make sure that he got them.  
  
He wasn’t… nervous as such about the proposal. They’d been together for quite some time and didn’t doubt that Balin loved him. But still, plying him with good food and strawberries couldn’t exactly hurt.   
  
-  
  
“Balin, there’s something I’d like to ask you,” Dori said, moving his hand to cover the small box in his pocket.  
  
“Of course, love,” Balin replied, smiling warmly at him from across the table. “No need to be so formal.”  
  
Dori took a deep breath. “Balin, would you-“  
  
All the lights in the restaurant went out, and since it was evening, and since Dori had specifically asked _not_ to be seated at a window thing got pretty dark indeed.  
  
Since he was a gentleman Dori didn’t curse, but it was a close thing.  
  
“Be careful now,” Balin said when he heard Dori moving. “I’m sure the light will come back in a moment.”  
  
“I’m not so sure,” Dori muttered as he carefully felt his way out of his side of the booth. “Stay still, I’m just coming to sit down next to you.”  
  
“Scared of the dark?” Balin asked, and Dori could hear the smile in his voice.  
  
“Scared that this will turn out to be Nori’s fault somehow,” Dori muttered. Rationally he knew that feeling made no sense, but… At least they’d already had the strawberries, and together with a lovely chocolate cake no less.  
  
“I’m sorry, what?”  
  
“Never mind,” Dori said, successfully managing to sit down on the other side, inching his way along until he bumped into Balin’s familiar form. “Hello.”  
  
Balin chuckled and put his arm around Dori’s waist. “Hello, my lovely. Well, this is rather cosy isn’t it.”  
  
“I suppose,” Dori said, sliding his hand down Balin’s arm until he could twine their fingers together. Giving his lover’s hand a squeeze Dori took another deep breath. “Balin, would you do me the honour of marrying me?”  
  
For a moment Balin didn’t say anything, and Dori realised that proposing in the dark was a horrible, horrible idea as he had no idea what the expression on Balin’s face was.  
  
Then there was the rustle of cloth, and a warm hand found his chest, his neck, cupped his face.   
  
“Oh, Dori,” Balin said. “Yes, yes of course.”  
  
When the light came on they were kissing, and Dori was happy enough that it didn’t even cross his mind that to the waiter who came to check on them it must have looked like they’d been taking advantage of the dark to have a snog.

At least not until Nori pointed it out later.   
  
Brothers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey peeps! Bilbo!Bat is now going to be a Big Bang story, so bad news is that it won't be posted until May. Good news is that it will be a lot longer than I originally planned. And perhaps there will even be art :)
> 
> Go check out the Big Bang on http://hobbitstory.livejournal.com/


	41. King of Erebor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You can't- no one can possibly think that it's a good idea to make me King of Erebor."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should be writing other stuff, but this week has not been good for writing (why are people stupid? and why does that ruin writing vibes?) so I just wrote the first thing that clicked.

"You've got to be joking."  
  
"I'm afraid not," Balin said, his face serious. Entirely serious. Not even a hint of a twinkle in his eyes, and Bilbo had to admit that it was possible that he wasn't actually joking.  
  
"You can't- no one can possibly think that it's a good idea to make me King of Erebor."  
At the end of that sentence Bilbo's voice was considerably louder than when he started.  
  
"You'd not be King, as such," Balin said mildly. “But since Thorin is still unconscious more than he is awake and is not in any position to make decisions. Neither are Fíli and Kíli and-“  
  
“They’ll be _fine_ ,” Bilbo said, a little more firmly than strictly necessary. “Don’t- they’ll be just _fine_.”  
  
“Of course, lad,” Balin said, his expression softening. “But fact still remain that we’ve not got any of them available, and Thranduil refuses to deal with Dáin, Dáin refuses to deal with Thranduil, Dís is still months away and-“  
  
“You can do it then,” Bilbo said and crossed his arms.  
  
“I’m not the one who is trusted by both Thranduil and Bard,” Balin said and sighed. “Nor am I the one who’s in a courtship with our king. If you’d already been married-“  
  
“But we’re not married,” Bilbo was quick to point out. “Very much not married. Not that- but still, not married.”  
  
Instead of replying Balin just looked at him with a reproachful look on his face.  
  
Bilbo met his eyes and tried not to fidget.  
  
It was a fairly even staring contest. Balin had more years of experiences, but Bilbo had more relatives to practice on. In the end though it was Bilbo’s shoulders who slumped.

“I’m not wearing a crown.”  
  
"Of course not," Balin agreed and Bilbo allowed himself to relax a little. "A small circlet should be just the thing."

Curses.


	42. All the world's a stage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a tiny story to celebrate Bilbo' and Thorin's anniversary.
> 
>  
> 
> <http://anunexpectedanniversary.tumblr.com>
> 
>  
> 
> (and hints of Fíli/Kíli/Tauriel)

“Oh Bilbo! I love you more than there are stars in the sky!”  
  
“And I love you, Thorin. More than there are flowers in the world! And for longer, because flowers wilt!”  
  
“They do! But our love will not!”  
  
“Never!”

“Oh, my love! I’m sorry for all the times I’ve insulted you! I would not have called you a grocer if I hadn’t panicked. It was all I could do not to ravish up against a wall you when we first met!”  
  
“Your nephews are very relieved that you didn’t! Because they were there, watching!”  
  
  
“That’s enough,” Thorin growled at said nephews.  
  
Kíli, holding a swooning Fíli up with an arm behind his back, snickered (as did Fíli) and the two of them sorted themselves out until they were standing side by side.  
  
“Here ends the play to commemorate uncle’s and Bilbo’s anniversary of their first meeting!” Kíli declared and bowed deeply.  
  
“Thank you for your patronage,” Fíli added and nodded.  
  
When Bilbo began to clap Thorin gave him a pained look.  
  
“Bilbo…”  
  
Bilbo’s lips twitched. “I don’t know, I found this quite amusing.”  
  
Kíli and Fíli beamed and Kíli swung his arm over his brother’s shoulders.  
  
“We’ve a scene from the Elven dungeons too!”

“Thorin, oh, Thorin!” Fíli declared, taking a step away  from Kíli and looking around as if he couldn’t see anyone else in the room. “Where are you! I was not eaten by a spider! And now I am here! But where are you! Please, answer soon before the guards hear me shouting!”  
  
“I am here, my burglar! Please, rescue us all! But first, let me tell you all the ways in which you are perfection!”  
  
Thorin groaned but when Bilbo patted his hand he quieted down and settled back in his chair with a sigh, wrapping his fingers around Bilbo's smaller ones.  
  
"Let them have their fun," Bilbo murmured and leaned closer to his husband. "If you like we can invite Captain Tauriel here and you can tell her embarrassing stories from their childhood."  
  
Thorin snorted and turned his head to press a kiss to the top of Bilbo's head. "I will consider it."  
  
"Hey," Kíli complained. "Quiet in the audience."


	43. The Adventures of Thorin Oakenbeak and Bilbird Baggins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Entirely inspired by [tosquinha's bird-au](http://tosquinha.tumblr.com/tagged/bird-au)
> 
> You need to check it out, it's the cutest thing. (Title borrowed from said art)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning, CRACK with capital C R A C K
> 
> I’m so sorry. (but since it wasn't my original idea I'm actually blameless, y/y?) Other warnings in the author’s note at the end.

It had been a long day and Thorin was ready to get some rest.  
  
His feet and wings were both aching a little and settling down somewhere for the night seemed very inviting indeed. He'd begin the journey back to the mountains tomorrow; it would be dangerous to start it now that dusk was falling because even if he saw well enough in the dark there were those whose sight was a lot better still.  
  
Ignoring memories of golden eyes and sharp white teeth Thorin stretched his wings to work out a small cramp. He could not fly all the way back, and it would be too dangerous to remain on the ground... Meaning that he’d best find safe resting place for the night, somewhere not out in the open in unknown territory.   
  
Thorin mentally berated himself for not scouting out a burrow earlier. He’d had the time, there was plenty of food down here in the valley, more than enough, so he could have spent some time looking for abandoned rabbit holes or something similar. Only he hadn’t. Instead he’d made sure to fill himself up as much as possible, not wanting to spend more time than necessary away from the mountains and Dís and Víli and the boys.  
  
Thorin lifted his head and gazed up in the trees. If he couldn’t spend the night in a burrow then a nest would be second best, and as luck would have it he found one almost right away.  
  
After watching it for a while he deemed it empty. If anyone had claimed it surely they would have bedded down for the night now? Yes, they would have, meaning that no one would mind if Thorin borrowed it for the night.  
  
His round, stout body was not one made for quick, graceful flight at sharp angles, but Thorin made it up to the branch with the nest without problem. Indeed, it was only as his feet were about to touch the nest that the problems began.  
  
“Wait!” a small voice thrilled. “Don’t-“  
  
Thorin landed on the nest, and then there was a loud crack.  
  
Spreading his wings Thorin managed to glide down to the ground without injury, landing next to the broken branch and the nest that’d tumbled down with it.  
  
“It wasn’t done, it wasn’t done and you ruined it!”  
  
A golden brown blur flitted around Thorin’s head and he turned his head from side to side to try and catch sight of it. It wasn’t until the other bird landed in front of him that he managed.  
  
“The nest wasn’t even done,” the small bird moaned as he hopped around said nest where it was lying upside down on the ground. “And now we’re homeless.”  
  
“It looked done to me,” Thorin said, awkwardly scratching one claw against the ground.  
  
“It was going to be so lovely,” the little bird sighed. “Round, with a round opening, much too small for anything else to fit inside. It would be perfect for Frodo and me.”  
  
“The branch was clearly unstable,” Thorin muttered. “It would only have taken a storm and the nest would have ended up like this.” He looked around. “I am sorry nevertheless. If you call for your Frodo I will apologise to you both.”  
  
The other bird made a small noise, a cross between a snort and a whistle. “I can call for him all right, but I don’t think he’ll come. If you want to meet him, follow me. I need to go back to him anyway.”  
  
-  
  
Oh, Thorin thought as he looked down at the small pale egg hidden away inside a large tuft of grass . _Oh_.  
  
“Did you miss me, Frodo?” the other bird chirped as he settled down on top of the egg. “Don’t worry, I’d never leave you for long. We can’t have you catching a chill, can we? Of course not.”  
  
Despite his chipper tone Thorin could see the worried tilt of his beak, the furrow between his eyes.  
  
“You can’t take care of an egg all by yourself.”  
  
Immediately after speaking Thorin realised that it had been the wrong thing to say, and it was only made more abundantly clear by the narrow-eyed glare he received.  
  
“I’m perfectly able to care for Frodo on my own,” the smaller bird spat. “I only work on the nest in the day when he’s nice and comfortable in the sunshine. Not too much mind, I’m not about to fry him. I was keeping him perfectly warm when I saw you trying to plant your large, feathery arse on our nest. Couldn't you see that it wouldn't work?”  
  
“I thought no one was using it,” Thorin rumbled. “And I thought it would hold me. How were you planning on getting the egg up there anyway?”  
  
“I would have managed,” the smaller bird sniffed. “Aren’t you even going to apologise?”  
  
Thorin opened his beak to say that he already had, when he realised that he hadn’t.  
  
“My apologies,” he said, bowing his head.  
  
“Hrmm,” the other bird said. “All right. I'm Bilbird Baggins."  
  
"Thorin Oakenbeak,” Thorin said, nodding again.

“Right, so, nice to meet you I guess, but if you could please fly along now? You’re a little hard to miss, being all big and- though I guess your colours are convenient enough, dark, except for the white bits around your face, but-“  
  
“You’re not planning to spend the night on the ground, are you?” Thorin asked, a little taken aback both by the review of his feathers as well as how the other bird seemed to suggest that he would indeed spend the night on the ground.  
  
“We are,” Bilbird said firmly. “Please fly somewhere else, if you’re gone no one will see us. I'm small and Frodo is smaller and we've been doing just fine for several nights now, ever since- since-“ Bilbo broke off and glanced down at the egg. “Frodo’s parents - my cousins – there was a cat and-“ he shook his head and sighed before looking up at Thorin with big gleaming eyes.  
  
“A few days ago I came back and found Frodo all alone, bits of fur and… feathers. Drogo’ and Prim’s nest was all ruined. I’ve been building a new one ever since.”  
  
“Didn’t you have a nest of your own?”  
  
“It’s too far away,” Bilbird said and sighed. “I was just coming to visit them, and- I _can_ carry Frodo just fine, but I can only manage a little bit at the time before I need to rest. It will take longer to carry him there than it will take to just make a new nest. At least if everybirdy would stop _breaking_ it.”  
  
Thorin was silent for a few long moments. “You will come with me.”  
  
“I’m sorry, what?”  
  
“I live with my kin just a day’s walk from here. I can carry your Frodo, and you can both stay with us until he’s hatched and strong enough to fly.”  
  
Bilbird blinked up at him. “First of all, what makes you think I’ll let you carry Frodo after you were clumsy enough to break our nest?”  
  
“It was the branch,” Thorin muttered.

“And second of all, a day’s ‘ _walk’_? Why don’t you fly?”  
  
Thorin looked away. “My kin and I are not meant for long flights.”  
  
“Ah, well, you’ve very sturdy legs,” Bilbo noted after a small awkward silence. “I’m sure you’re a great walker.” A little morosely he looked down at himself, even though his legs weren’t visible spread out as he was over Frodo the egg. “I don’t think I could keep up.”  
  
“I would wait for you,” Thorin promised. “And if you allow me I would carry your Frodo, then you could fly.”  
  
“My friends call me Bilbo.”  
  
Now it was Thorin’s turn to blink. “I… see,” was all he could manage in reply.  
  
“Do you really mean it? About us coming to live with you?”  
  
Thorin nodded and Bilbo clucked low in his throat. “Well, if it’s just a day away… I won’t be able to finish a nest in a day. So for Frodo’s sake…”  
  
“Very good,” Thorin said, feeling very relieved even if he wasn’t sure why. It was probably guilt over destroying the nest, yes. “That settled we can move on to more urgent matters. You’ve spent more time here than I have, have you seen any holes in the ground? Somewhere nearby.”  
  
“Holes in the ground?” Bilbo tilted his head to the side. “I have, but why would you-“  
  
“If you take me there I’ll explain on the way. Bring Frodo.”  
  
-  
  
“Birds are _not_ meant to live in holes in the ground,” Bilbo grumbled as he very gently carried Frodo towards the hole he’d seen earlier.  
  
“It’s fine,” Thorin said shortly, wings twitching with the desire to reach out and take Frodo. It was obvious that the egg was a heavy burden for Bilbo.  
  
“Wait here,” Thorin added when they’d reached their destination. “I just need to make sure there are not snakes.”

“ _Snakes_?!”

“No snakes,” Thorin concluded after a quick survey. He gestured with a wing to the opening. “It’s safe to go inside.”  
  
“Birds are _really_ not meant to live in holes in the ground,” Bilbo muttered as he gingerly stepped into the burrow, ducking his head as he passed through the entrance even though it was not needed at all; the roof was high enough that Thorin could stand upright. “I’m- oh, but this is quite cosy isn’t it? A little dark, and a bit of padding wouldn’t go amiss but-“  
  
After looking around one last time Thorin followed Bilbo inside, unable to stop a smile from touching his beak as the smaller bird kept up a steady flow of chatter (aimed at him or the egg? Did it matter?) as he made Frodo comfortable on the ground.  
  
Thorin settled a small distance away, making sure that he placed himself between the burrow’s opening and Bilbo. The dark combined with the low murmur of Bilbo’s voice quickly lulled Thorin into a half-sleep, but he blinked awake when he heard the chatter of Bilbo’s beak.  
  
“Are you cold?” Thorin asked after realising that Bilbo was shivering.

“Sorry-“ Bilbo said, and Thorin could see that he was bracing himself to keep still. “I’m just, I’m not fat enough you see. I haven’t had time to eat lately, what with Frodo and- My kind is supposed to eat seven times every day but- Oh, it doesn’t matter. I’ll be fine.”  
  
He didn’t look fine. Had he been so busy with the nest that he’d not taken time to feed himself properly?  
  
Thorin hesitated. What he wanted to offer wasn’t really done… He was not courting Bilbo and they weren’t even the same species much less the same family, but… how could he just sit there if Bilbo was almost starving? He couldn't. Decision made Thorin got to his feet and waddled closer to Bilbo.  
  
When Thorin threw up Bilbo's eyes grew bigger still.  
  
“This- it’s- Thorin I can’t accept this. You must – you were bringing this home to your family, weren’t you?”

“I can find more on the way tomorrow,” Thorin said dismissively, feeling the feathers on his head perk up a little with embarrassment at Bilbo's wide-eyed amazement at the offered nourishment. “Take it. You need to stay strong for your Frodo.”  
  
“It’s very generous of you,” Bilbo said softly and Thorin ducked his head before backing away.  
  
“Eat quietly," he cautioned, a little more gruffly than he'd intended. "I’m going to sleep now.”  
  
Just before Thorin dozed off he heard a quiet: “Good night, Frodo.” Followed by an even quieter. “Good night, Thorin. Thank you.”  
  
Thorin didn’t reply, but as he tumbled that last bit into sleep the darkness felt much warmer and safer than it usually did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thorin throws up at a certain point, but it’s not graphic at all. And Bilbo eats what Thorin has thrown up (hey it’s a bird thing) but it’s also not graphical. And again, crack, so much crack. And off screen character death (Frodo’s parents).


	44. I do, do you?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Bagginshield)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I'm uploading ficlets from tumblr)

“Don’t panic but I think we might have accidentally gotten married…” 

Bilbo waited to hear Thorin’s reaction to that, and was rewarded with a snore. 

Without taking his eyes off the golden ring that had definitely not been on his finger 24 hours ago, Bilbo rolled over in the bed and nudged his boyfriend. Possibly his now husband. _Lover_ , let’s go with lover.

“Thorin, wake _up_.”

“Hmm?”

“Thorin, did we get married?”

It was all terribly cliche and Bilbo was never going to live it down if Prim or Esme found out. Las Vegas, drinks, and he had a fraying memory of someone looking like Elvis. Horror. His cousins could never _ever_ know. Not even Drogo because he couldn't keep a secret from Prim to save his life.

“Hrmmm.” Thorin rolled over and buried his face in Bilbo’s neck. "Mrbh." His beard tickled and Bilbo shivered and squirmed. 

“That’s not helpful at _all_ ,” Bilbo protested, not being appeased in the slightest when Thorin’s hand came up to pet his head. Then he caught sight of Thorin’s hand and his eyes widened.

“Oh no. If you _don’t_ have a ring then just who did I marry?”

“Mmrm, noisy.”

“You’re not going to be any help at all today are you?” Bilbo said accusingly.


	45. “You need to wake up because I can’t do this without you.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Set in the What to Expect verse]

“You need to wake up because I can’t do this without you.”

“Hmm?”

“Thorin, wake _up_.”

Blinking his way into wakefulness Thorin’s eyes found his husband looking down at him with an unhappy, frazzled expression.

“I told you three of them were a bit much to have at once,” Bilbo said as he held Fennin out for Thorin to take. “They’re all hungry, and I’m annoyed at that bloody statue all over again. I can only feed _two_ at once, no need to shove that in my face.”

“I used to come awake at the smallest sound,” Thorin said, not quite able to keep a hint of an accusation from his voice even as he settled his daughter into the crook of his arm, stroking a finger down her downy cheek. “And then I met you.”

It was the strangest thing, even before they’d begun to court (or rather, even before Thorin had tried to court the oblivious Hobbit he’d fallen in love with) Bilbo’s presence had worked much like one of Óin’s sleeping droughts. 

If Thorin had been able to hear Bilbo’s sleep-soft breaths, out he went as well, like a light, sleeping through the night as if someone had clobbered him over the head.

Once Thorin had realised this he’d made sure to settle his bedroll far enough away from Bilbo that someone else’s snores would drown him out. Out in the wilderness it was a danger to be a heavy sleeper. 

Of course this had later been one of the things that had made Bilbo believe that Thorin did not appreciate his company, but-

“And used to be able to sleep a whole night without ever getting hair in my mouth,” Bilbo said as he shifted Burin and Clove around until they were comfortable. “We’ve all been forced to make sacrifices.”

Thorin huffed out a soft laugh as Bilbo trotted over to one of the armchairs and unlaced his shirt so that the babes could find his nipples.

“It would be easier if you slept without your nightshirt,” Thorin suggested as he bounced Fennin lightly up and down, praying that she’d not start crying.

“I _like_ sleeping with a nightshirt.”

He’d not admit it, but Thorin rather liked it too. Perhaps it was mostly because of the mornings when he’d been allowed to slowly push the hem of the shirt higher and higher, dropping kisses as he went, or perhaps it was as Bilbo looked particularly sweet when he was sleep-rumpled and creased, but regardless, Thorin was unreasonably fond of the piece of clothing as well.

He was however also fond of making Bilbo huff in annoyance.

“I’m just saying that it would be _easier_.”

He was rewarded with a small huff, and Thorin hid a smile.


	46. Saving sea horses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Human-AU  
> Dwalin/Bilbo

Dwalin wasn’t hiding, exactly. He was just not joining in with the dancing. Or drinking. Or general merriment. It just- it wasn’t for him this kind of fancy party, with fancy dress and fancy people who looked at you strangely when you asked for a beer and he _very_ much regretting letting Thorin talk him into-

“There you are! I’ve been looking everywhere.”

A small man dressed as a… Dwalin blinked. Sea horse? Had appeared in front of him, latching on to his arm. He was smiling, but his eyes were wide and a little panicked. 

“Please pretend that you know me?” he said in a soft rush of words. “There’s this guy following me and-”

Dwalin raised his gaze to look over the head of the would-be sea horse and almost immediately found what had to be the would-be stalker.

Fairly average in height and size, red hair, wide mouth with a cruel twist to it. Dwalin wasn’t sure what he’d tried to dress like, but involved a lot of gold-coloured fabric.

He sneered when he saw Dwalin looking, and Dwalin frowned and squared his shoulders, wrapping an arm around the sea horse’s shoulders.

“Let’s go find a security guard,” Dwalin murmured, giving what he hope would be a comforting squeeze.

“Yes, please,” the sea horse breathed, pressing a little closer. “I’m sorry, he just- I don’t have a good feeling about him at all.”

Neither did Dwalin and he grunted in agreement.

That seemed to be all the response required, because the sea horse kept up a steady stream of chatter as they edged out of the main ball room and headed towards the bar area, where a guard was sure to be found. 

“-and I don’t know anyone here except Bofur and he’s gone and disappeared somewhere and you looked nice, I mean, seemed nice, I mean-”

Dwalin snorted. “Hiding in a corner is your definition of nice?” He expected that the little sea horse had gone for the biggest person he’d been able to find that hadn’t seemed likely to bite his head off for asking. He supposed that was flattering.

“Well, not as such, but- I, um, I’d seen you before? Here at the party I mean, and-” he trailed off and when Dwalin turned to look down at him there was a hint of a blush shining through the green and blue make-up on his face.

“This is going to sound so stupid…” he muttered, glancing up at Dwalin. “You were eating cookies before and you looked so pleased about it. And I swear I wasn’t looking for you just now, but when I saw you- I just thought that someone that happy about chocolate has to at least be a marginally nice person. I’m sure you’re _very_ nice,” he hastened to add, wide hazel eyes giving Dwalin an earnest look. “I just don’t know you yet. I mean, at all. Except for how you’re helping me now which is indeed very nice of you. Um, thank you?”

Dwalin wasn’t sure what to say. “You’re welcome,” was what ended up falling out of his mouth, and that seemed work well enough.

The little sea horse man smiled up at him and it seemed to Dwalin that they were walking that little bit closer all of a sudden. Which was.. nice. 


	47. Matchmaker, matchmaker, don't make me a match

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bofur/Fíli, meeting at a wedding

Fíli was beyond thrilled that Thorin and Bilbo were finally getting married, but he would be happier about it if Bilbo’s entire family hadn’t showed up for it. Or to be more precise, if large parts of Bilbo’s family hadn’t seemed hell-bent on making sure that everyone without a husband or wife or significant other of some sort left the reception with one.

He’d been introduced to so many people that his head was spinning. Or maybe that was just since so many of them had dragged him to dance.

Either way, he was going to hide in the coat room until his head stopped spinning or the rest of the world did.

It was a brilliant plan with only one flaw: someone else had gotten there before him.

“Um,” that person said, blinking at Fíli from the nest he’d made out of everyone’s coats. “I promise this is not what it looks like.”

“I have no idea what you think it looks like,” Fíli said, closing the door behind himself.

The man looked around at the pile of outerwear spread out on the floor. “To tell the truth I don’t know either.” He looked up and gave Fíli an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, did you want your coat? I thought no one would be leaving just yet.”

“Exactly,” Fíli sighed, which earned him a confused look. “Never-mind.”

“If you tell me what your coat looks like I’m sure I can find it,” the man offered helpfully. “But please don’t tell anyone I’m hiding here. I like a party as much as anyone but if Bilbo’s grandmother sees me she’s going to marry me off to someone, I just know it.” He looked pleadingly up at Fíli. “She _likes_ me.”

Fíli raised an eyebrow.

“Well not like that,” the man chuckled when he caught Fíli’s meaning. “But I’ve known Bilbo for ages and she’s told me to marry him for just about as long, and since that’s clearly no longer possible I’m thinking that she’ll try and have me tie the knot with some other family member.”

“Right,” Fíli said after he’d thought things over. “Scoot over.” He knelt down and crawled over to sit next to the other man, momentarily distracted by how very green his eyes were this close. “I’m hiding for similar reasons and I’d like to offer you a deal.”

“A deal?”

“We hide here,” Fíli said, gesturing the room around them. “And if someone happens to find us we pretend to have hooked up, that way everyone ought to leave us alone for the rest of the evening.”

The other man tapped his chin thoughtfully. “This idea has merits.”

Fíli snorted and stretched out on top of the coats. “Great. Oh, and I’m Fíli by the way.”

“I know, there was the speech to your uncle and all? Which was very nice, very moving,” the man nodded. “I’m Bofur. No speech. Bilbo wouldn’t let me. Claimed I’d spill all of his secrets.”

Fíli chuckled. “Like what?”

Bofur grinned at him. “Like how he had the ring for almost six months before asking Thorin to marry him.”

“Really?” Fíli asked a grin stretching his mouth. 

“Well, more like seven really, but six sounds better, nice round number.”

They spent the next hour or so chatting, and Fíli was honestly having a better time than he’d had before making his escape to the coat room. Which was totally the only reason he was disappointed when Bofur cut himself off mid-sentence to say:

“I think I’ve figured out a way for us to escape the coat room without being married off to the first Took or Baggins that smiles at us.

“Oh?” Fíli said, trying to muster up some enthusiasm.  

“It’s your idea really,” Bofur said. “The bit about if they think we’ve ‘hooked up’?” He tugged on his moustache again. “I was thinking that - if you’d be up for it - we could go out and… kiss, or something, very publicly. And then maybe go and have a drink?” He licked his lips and Fíli was not at all distracted. “Getting a bit thirsty just lying here talking. And this is a party after all. But only if you’d be up for it,” Bofur added. “The kissing.”

“Or _something_?” Fíli asked, eyebrow quirked in enquiry.

Bofur looked flustered for a moment before collecting himself and grinning at Fíli. “I know you’ve not seen it but I happen to have a very fine arse. People just can’t keep their hands off it.”

Fíli snorted. “I see.” He hummed a little. “I don’t know. I might have used up all my bravado during that speech earlier.” Bofur’s expression fell slightly and Fíli pretended that he didn’t see it. “If I’m going to do something else in public today I might need to practice first. In private.”

“Practice?” Bofur asked, inching a little closer.

“It would need to be a convincing kiss,” Fíli said softly, inching a little closer as well. “Otherwise we’re sure to be married off to someone.”

“Very good point,” Bofur said, and this time when he licked his lips Fíli didn’t even pretend that he wasn’t watching the quick sweep of the pink tongue. “Wouldn’t want to risk it.”

“Exactly,” Fíli agreed and closed the last bit of distance between them.

They never ended up going for that drink.


	48. Say it with a baked good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Human Au, High school au  
> Dwalin/Bilbo, Tauriel/Kíli

“Bilbo I need your help!”

Looking up from his book Bilbo glanced at the panic-stricken Kíli.  He would be more concerned if it wasn’t for Kíli working himself up in a frazzled state for pretty much anything that was wrong, from the wrong kind of cereal to failing a test. But it was all swings and roundabouts, Kíli also turned immensely happy when things did go right.

“What’s wrong?”

“I have a date, sort of, maybe, but it might be with a serial killer.”

Bilbo blinked.

“One of the people in my guild actually lives here,” Kíli explained. “We started talking yesterday during the raid and she goes to our school and-”

“You have serial killers in your Warcraft guild?” Bilbo tilted his head to the side. “Or in our school for that matter?”

“I hope not,” Kíli said as he threw himself down in the chair next to Bilbo. “She seemed really nice.”

“So who is she?”

“I don’t know,” Kíli pouted. “We agreed that it was best to exchange name when we met in person, in case one of us turned out to be a creepy old serial killer after all, but now I wish we hadn’t.”

“I’m still not sure where I come into the picture,” Bilbo said. “I’m not going to be able to save you from a serial killer.”

“Moral support,” Kíli whined. “Come with me to Bombur’s? I’m meeting her there. Public place, coffee shop, so the sharpest thing will be a butter knife. Please come? If she doesn’t show up I don’t want to sit around and wait and look stupid all by myself.”

“Thanks,” Bilbo said, rolling his eyes.

“I didn’t mean it like that!”

-

The mystery girl turned out to be none other than Tauriel, someone Kíli had had an on and off crush on since second grade.

Needless to say that Bilbo’s presence was not needed, but since he’d brought a book he wasn’t overly troubled with being abandoned to his own devices while Kíli and Tauriel found a table of their own to gush over bows and different kinds of arrows (Bilbo wasn’t sure if this was part of the game or not.)

However when a large looming shadow fell over him Bilbo looked up.

The person standing next to him was none other than Dwalin Fundinson, best friend of Thorin Durin; someone who Bilbo would describe as basically the king of the school. (Thranduil might not agree, but then again he and Thorin never did see eye to eye on many issues)

Dwalin looked rather… frowny, that was the first word that came to mind, albeit not an actual word at all but-

Bilbo shook his head slightly to clear it and hoped this wasn’t going to end up as some lame practical joke or attempt to pick on the ‘book worm’.

”Yes?” he asked

”Here,” Dwalin said, almost smashing a cupcake down on the table in front of Bilbo.

Bilbo looked at the cupcake, then back up at Dwalin.

”Thank you?”

At this Dwalin nodded once, solemnly, before turning around and walking back to his own table.

Bilbo looked at the cupcake again, then reached out a finger to poke at it.   
  
It seemed like a normal cupcake. But why-

When Bilbo’s eyes found Dwalin again the other boy was already looking at him, and upon noticing that Bilbo was now looking back at _him_ a small flush swept over Dwalin’s cheeks. It looked rather fetching together with the blue tips of his Mohawk, and Bilbo smiled at him before reaching for the cupcake.


	49. “Are they gonna have the buttflies?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Human AU, school trip  
> Bagginshield

“Thank you so much for volunteering to go on the trip to the museum, Thorin,” Dís said as she handed him the boys’ backpacks. “You’re currently my favourite brother, don’t tell Frerin.”

“That word does not mean what you think it means,” Thorin muttered, thinking about how it had been impossible to say no since puppy dog eyes had been involved in the request. Not hers, not the boys’ but _Víli_ ’s… And his were even harder to say no to than Kíli’s.

“Favourite?”

“ _Volunteering_.”

But as his nephews bounced down the stairs and hopped excitedly around him, chattering on about dinosaurs and fish (“Fish?” Thorin mouthed to Dís who shrugged) it was impossible not to smile. How bad could a trip to a museum be after all, even with thirty kids of varying ages involved.

-

“You are an angel,” Prim breathed as she shoved the bag with Frodo’s lunch in Bilbo’s hands. “I owe you one. Or two. Let’s call it several.”

“And you called ahead to let them know it’ll be me who shows up?” Bilbo asked, not wanting to end the day in the arrest because someone thought he’d tried to trick his way onto a bus full of kindergarteners.

“Drogo did, yes,” Prim nodded. “Frodo! Time to go now, sweetie!” She turned back to Bilbo. “I was worried he’d be upset that Drogo and I couldn’t come, but as soon as I told him that you could go instead you’d thought he’d won the lottery.” Prim snorted. “Or whatever’s apt for a five year old.”

Bilbo smiled. “Your boy has excellent taste in company.” His smiled widened when Prim huffed and shoved her hip into his.

-

“Are they gonna have the buttflies?” Kíli asked, tugging on Thorin’s hand as they walked across the parking lot to the bus.

Thorin’s lips twitched. “Butterflies. And we’ll see when we get there.”

“Dinosaurs are cooler,” Fíli stated, the small skip in his step making his hair bounce up and down. He’d not wanted to cut it except, for small trims, for over a year so the longest bits reached all the way down to his shoulders now. Thorin hoped no one made fun of him because if it, but if they did and if he caught them-

“Dinosaurs are dead,” Kíli said dismissively. “That’s stupid of them.”

-

“Sam!” Frodo chimed as soon as they came with viewing distance of the bus and the children waiting outside it. “Sam! Rosie!"

“Now wait a moment,” Bilbo said and snagged the back of Frodo’s shirt when he made to sprint ahead. “Let’s not start the day with you getting run over. At the very least we should save that for after you’ve seen the dinosaurs.”

“Dinosaurs,” Frodo said reverently and stopped enough that Bilbo could take his hand.

-

“Ah, here comes the final uncle,” one of the teachers said and Thorin looked up at the word 'uncle'.

“Are we late?” the small curly-haired man asked. “I’m sorry, traffic, well, you know how it is.”

“Not to worry, Mister Baggins,” the teacher smiled.

“Oh, please call me Bilbo,” the man said, and Thorin blinked as the fairly ordinary looking man was entirely transformed by the warm smile.

-

Frodo had opted to sit next to Sam and Rosie, leaving Bilbo with the expectation to sit on his own. But much to his surprise a low and rumbly voice interrupted his musings of how one apparently never grew out of feeling a bit like the outcast when sitting alone on a school bus.

“Is this seat taken?”

Bilbo looked up, and up, into pale blue eyes. “Oh, yes, please-“ he waved his hand. “Sit. I’ve been abandoned you see.”

Just then Bilbo could hear Frodo giggling and his lips quirked up. “And he seems to be having a brilliant time without me.”

“I can say much the same,” the tall, dark handsome stranger said as he slid down into the seat with more grace than Bilbo would have expected of a man his size.

“Which one is yours then?” Bilbo asked, and the man nodded towards two heads conspiratorially bent together a few seats ahead of them..

“Fíli and Kíli,” he said. “My nephews.”

“Oh,” Bilbo said. “So that’s why I was the _final_ uncle. I did wonder. I’m Bilbo, by the way.” He held out his hand.

“Thorin,” came the reply as a considerably larger hand gently wrapped around his, and to his surprise Bilbo had to force himself to let go after the sociably acceptable period of time had passed. And to his even greater surprise he thought he saw a flash of disappointment on Thorin’s face as well.

It was possible that he would be the one who owed Prim a favour of two after this trip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still uploading ficlets from tumblr


	50. No one likes shoes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dwalin/Bilbo  
> Uncle Bilbo

“Come now, Frodo,” Bilbo said when the dark-haired little boy couldn’t quite tear himself away from the brightly coloured building blocks at the kindergarten. “If we don’t leave soon we’ll be late for dinner.”

“Listen to your father,” one of the teachers rumbled and Bilbo turned to explain how he wasn’t Frodo’s father (he’d thought everyone had already been told) but when he saw who had spoken he rather lost track of what he had been about to say.

He only realised that he’d been staring when a dark frown settled on the other man’s face.

“I can go and get my certificate if you want to,” he said, making a gesture towards where Bilbo knew the teacher’s lounge was. “The name’s Dwalin, I started working here last week.”

“Oh no, that wasn’t-” Bilbo blushed. “I’m so sorry. This is horribly embarrassing, but you’re just very-”

“Big?” the man suggested drily. “Tattooed? Sca-”

“Handsome,” Bilbo blurted, and his blush deepened until he was convinced that he had to look like a tomato with a curly wig.

The man, Dwalin, blinked down at him, and to Bilbo’s surprise (and delight) a pink flush appeared on his cheeks as well.

“I don’t think your wife would be very happy if she heard that,” he said gruffly, and Bilbo’s eyes widened.

“Oh, I’m not Drogo, I’m Bilbo. Frodo’s uncle?” Bilbo pointed at Frodo, then realised that Dwalin of course would know who he was and hurriedly tucked his hand in his pocket instead. “I come and pick him up when Prim and Drogo have to work late.”  

“Oh.”

They stared at each other for a few moments, before a small curly-haired blur barrelled into Bilbo’s legs. 

“Uncle Bilbo, I’m hungry.”

“Which is why we are going to have dinner,” Bilbo smiled and ran his hand over Frodo’s head. “If you’ll ever put your shoes on.”

Frodo made a face. “I don’t like shoes.”

Bilbo secretly agreed, but he knew better than to say so. “If you promise to eat all your vegetables I’ll carry you to the car, and then you won’t need any shoes. How about that?”

“Deal!” Frodo chirped cheerfully, stretching his arms up for Bilbo to lift him into his arms.

“Right,” Bilbo said, meeting Dwalin’s eyes. “We’ll be going then. I- I expect we’ll see each other again?”

Dwalin nodded. “I guess so. Good-bye Frodo, see you tomorrow.”

“Good-bye, Mister Dwalin!” Frodo chirped. “I’ll save a cookie for you.”

“Good lad,” Dwalin smiled and Bilbo’s heart did a very silly flip-flop in his chest.


	51. "Not a giant spider."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shire futurefic  
> Adopting a pet  
> Bagginshield

They didn’t so much adopt a kitten as they were adopted by one.

It showed up one morning and made its presence known by almost doing what so many Orcs had failed to do, scaring Thorin Oakenshield half to death.

Bilbo was sitting outside on the bench when he heard a roar coming from inside Bag End. 

He knew that roar, it was Thorin’s ‘WE’RE UNDER ATTACK!’ one, but Bilbo had never expected to hear it in Hobbiton, much less when he’d left Thorin sleeping in their bed only an hour ago.

Rushing inside; pipe forgotten on the grass where he’d dropped it, Bilbo arrived wild-eyed and panting to their bedroom, discovering an equally wild-eyed Thorin staring up at the top of the wardrobe. 

“What on Arda is-”

“Meow?” 

A small furry head poked out of the shadows and Thorin aimed an accusing finger at it. 

“When I woke up that _thing_ sat on my chest, staring at me.”

“It’s a kitten,” Bilbo said reproachfully. “Not a giant spider.”

“Mrow,” the kitten agreed.

-

Despite the less than perfect first meeting Thorin and the kitten quickly made friends, and it was Thorin who decided on its name.

-

“Orcrist! Come here!”

“It’s a cat, not a dog,” Bilbo sighed when no kitten appeared. 

“I’ve got _fish_ for you!”

“Mrow?” 

The tip-tap sound of paws on wooden floor was suddenly audible. 

“See, I know it’s a cat,” Thorin said smugly.


	52. Thorin meets baby Frodo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bagginshield, Shire futurefic

Thorin had not woken up that day with the intention to be so throughly surprised that he just about forgot his own name. Then again, surprises had a tendency to be just surprising.

He had known that Bilbo’s cousins Primula and Drogo would be visiting, he had known that they’d bring their son, he had known said son was still too young to even be called a toddler, but he still had not been adequately prepared to actually meet the one and only Frodo Baggins.

~

Thorin knew that he was being rude, but he could not tear his eyes away from the tufts of dark hair sticking up from the small, small neatly wrapped bundle in Primula’s arms.

It was quite some time since Fíli and Kíli had been newborns, but Thorin was convinced that even when they’d been placed on Dís’ chest right after their births they had still managed to be bigger than Frodo now was.

He was… Frodo… He…

He could fit in the palm of Thorin’s hand. Not that Thorin would dare to try, but he was sure of it. With room to spare.

“-Thorin?”

A firm nudge in his side finally made Thorin wrench his gaze away and turn to Bilbo.

“Prim’s been trying to talk to you for a good couple of minutes,” Bilbo said, a smile lifting the corners of his mouth. “Do you no longer answer to Thorin? Shall I inform everyone that ‘Your Majesty’ is back on the table after all?”

“I just wanted to ask if you would like to hold him,” Prim said before Thorin could think of a suitable answer for Bilbo, and it took Thorin a few more moments to realise that she’d really been talking to him.

He looked down at his hands, blunt and big and rough, and began to shake his head, but once again his attention was caught as Frodo made a small sleepy hiccup of a noise and turned his head so that an impossibly tiny nose became visible.

“That’s a yes,” Bilbo said when it became clear that Thorin was not about to provide Prim with any sort of real answer, and before Thorin knew it he was holding Frodo.

“Darling, you’re not breathing,” Bilbo said, curling his fingers around Thorin’s wrist.

Thorin didn’t hear him, and only dimly was aware of the touch as all of his attention was once again focused on Frodo, now seemingly even smaller, but warm and soft and-

It felt like holding a baby bird, a raven hours out of the egg, and Thorin could not fathom how Hobbits survived long enough to grow up.

Oh, he knew they were a lot hardier than they looked, but this…

Frodo hiccuped again, his hand flailing slightly before finding Thorin’s right thumb.

Just as Bilbo’s fingers could not reach around the whole of Thorin’s wrist could Frodo’s fingers not reach around the whole of Thorin’s thumb.

“He’s a marvel,” Thorin said, voice low and unexpectedly raspy and Prim and Drogo looked at each other and smiled, and Bilbo’s fingers stroked Thorin’s wrist as he leaned into the Dwarf’s side.


	53. Keep your cool

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Borrowing [diemarysues](http://tmblr.co/m2lnmSgGqnAfePPDvTQ49BQ)‘ [**Keep Your Feet**](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1697855)-verse)
> 
>  

“I know they’re pretty, but you can’t just take any bit of coral that strikes your fancy. You could be pocketing someone’s home and very likely even be pocketing _someone_. Most people think that corals are some mix of plant and rock, when they’re really- Thorin? Thorin are you listening to me?”

“Hmm?“

Bilbo huffed and inched a little closer, tail and backside wriggling through the sand until he was close enough that he could poke at the wide straw-hat shadowing Thorin’s face. “Are you _sleeping_?”

“No,” Thorin protested even as he was sitting up and swallowing a yawn. “I’m _listening_.”

“If you fall asleep you’ll wake up in the water,” Bilbo threatened, grumbling a little beneath his breath as Thorin slung an arm over his shoulders and tugged him closer. 

When he ended up being tugged all the way into sitting sideways in Thorin’s lap the grumbling was replaced by yelping and flailing.

“I’m too heavy,” Bilbo protested, wriggling within the hold of Thorin’s arms. “I’m going to flatten you.”

Thorin snorted. “You’re not that big. Just sit still. Keep talking to me.”

“Yes, because you were so interested in corals.”  
  
“I was listening. I like hearing you talk. And I want to know more of your world. It’s just that the waves are very… soothing.” A small smile touched Thorin’s lips. “I shall look at you instead.”

“I hope-” Bilbo blinked. “Did you just kiss my nose?”

“Perhaps,” Thorin said nonchalantly. “If I’m allowed to do it again I can make sure of it.”

“If you do it _again_ then you’ve definitely done it before.”

Thorin just looked at him, the corners of his mouth still turned up, and his eyes were as blue as the sea on a clear morning.

“Oh, I’m not going to _tell_ you to kiss my nose,” Bilbo huffed. “That’s ridiculous.” 

“I wouldn’t dream of doing something against your wishes.”

That was a bold lie since Bilbo had not been asked before finding himself in Thorin’s lap, and he wriggled meaningfully, smacking Thorin on the leg with his tail.

“ _Really_.”

“You’re not going to flatten me.”

“I just _might_ ,” Bilbo muttered.

The way Thorin’s chest rumbled when he laughed was just unfair to anyone trying to argue with him.


	54. Thorin vs. Bush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Retirement in the Shire AU

It started innocently enough, like most things do.

-

 "Darling, could you dig up the dead rose bush at the back? Next to the tree. You can’t miss it, it’s the only dead one. There’s daisies on the other side of it; they’re the white ones.“

Thorin did not look up from the book he was reading. "Of course. Would you like to further clarify how a dead bush looks? Draw me a picture? Or should I wait for you to send a message to Ori and ask that he draw it? Perhaps a map as well?”

“Like you know how to follow maps,” Bilbo sniffed and Thorin’s mouth quirked up at one corner.

“Yes, dear.”

-

Armed with a spade Thorin made the short journey to the back garden, not bothering to change clothes. Digging up a bush would be easy enough.

-

Thorin had dealt with stone less stubborn than these damned roots. And the thorns hadn’t had the sense to die with the rest of the accursed plant, or perhaps they were now evil _undead_ thorns, as they were clearly out for blood.  
  
“Do you know how many Orcs I’ve killed,” Thorin said as he glared down at the stubborn undead _weed_.  
  
The stubborn undead weed did not reply.  
  
The scrapes on Thorin’s hands stung when he curled his hands in fists.  
  
-  
  
An hour later Bilbo went in search of his husband as he had no idea where Thorin was and the rosebush was still standing; a grey-brown miserable collection of sticks amongst the green.

Surely Thorin could not have gotten lost on his way to the garden? 

Bilbo snickered a bit to himself. No, that would just be silly.

However, considering that he eventually found Thorin down in the smithy he had to wonder if he’d been a bit too hasty.  
  
“What are you doing?” Bilbo asked, after allowing himself a few moments’ observation of the way the muscles of Thorin’s arms and chest coiled and bunched as he banged a hammer down at a red-hot piece of metal lying on the anvil. 

“I’m making a new spade,” Thorin growled. “I need a better weapon to deal with the monstrosity in your garden.”

For a moment Bilbo thought that Thorin had found an actual monster in the garden.  
  
“Oh, you mean the rosebush?”  
  
“It’s evil,” Thorin said darkly.  
  
“It’s a bush.”

“It’s an _evil_ bush. I think it’s undead.”

“ _What_?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternative ending:
> 
> "Thorin, you're not burning the bush down."
> 
> "If it will end in fire, we will-"
> 
> "NO."

**Author's Note:**

> Warm and fuzzy prompts are always welcome.


End file.
